A blog for and about the integration of faith and writing. Tuesday, December 9, 2008. My mind began to drift. What is this I see. A man standing by a maple tree? Doubt it was the intention. For it was no one he represented. Like a far off nursery rhyme. I wondered at this kind of man.

Thursday, May 7, 2009. After the death of her mother in 1977, Edie moved around the country after finally settling in Florida to pursue a life of quiet isolation. Edie had been dead for five days when she was discovered by her nephew. A daily swimmer until her d.

8216;s ending, seconds after it has taken place.

But I cannot tell the day,. The mind clears a bit. And I remember who I am,. What day it is,. And how little time I have,. To assemble myself and leave for work. This day is not unlike any other work day,. Not unlike years of repetitive practical habits. That propel me into this persona,. This predictable working life,. So unlike the life of the sleeper. Who travels by thought through time,.

When the darkened room is suddenly filled with light,. When the unexpected wave rises and crashes upon you,. When you cannot find the precise metaphor to describe,. To express the overwhelming emotion. Bursting from your heart and spreading to every sinew,. Awakening your body to its purpose,. Awakening your mind to the joy of existence,. To the bliss of knowing,. Knowing you are desired,. Knowing you are loved,. More than momentary infatuation,.