* not with ink

“Count the stars,” he told me. “This land will be yours,” he said. Outrageous! I thought. “How will I know?” I asked. I brought the sacrifice, slaughtered the animals, sat down, and waited. He didn’t warn me that after the promises, the obedience, and the waiting, the darkness would come. From Genesis 15 , the Old Testament lectionary reading for today. This is one of several passages in which God makes a covenant with Abram. What struck me in this particular instance is the strange, unsettling way in which God reiterates the covenant. What was Abram expecting; how did he think God would respond to his request for a sign or guarantee of the promise? Why did God put Abram to sleep and send a "terrifying darkness" after making these massive and intimate promises? And what does either of these questions have to do with us today?

This morning, I led a hospital ecumenical service, and gave a short message on  Luke 4:1-13  and its significance for those of us who are observing Lent.  I decided to post it here because I'm planning on sharing some Lenten poetry in the next few weeks, and I know that many of my readers are from Christian traditions that don't observe Lent, or from traditions that aren't exclusively Christian. I hope this helps set Lent into a specific context and a narrative - and I'm always happy to hear what doesn't make sense, or dialogue around any of the content. If you're unfamiliar with the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness, click on the link above so you can see what story I'm referencing! For many Christians around the world, we are now in the season of Lent. And when Christians talk about Lent, there are a few other words that are very often heard: wilderness fasting temptation preparation Each of these words is present in the Scripture story we...

Ashes and dust, we all fall down. These bodies of ours will fade away Til nothing is left but a smudge. The smallest trace of life. All our dreams and doings, Our hopes and hollering. One dirty smear for the eye to see And the invisible effects Of how we lived: The slaves we loosed The meals we shared The time we gave And the fullness of our grace.

It's ten pm. There's a pie in the oven. I made ginger snaps while the piemaker peeled and chopped. We chatted as we worked, and laughed, and kissed a few times. I'm putting together a pump-me-up playlist of lady-songs and trying not to stress about what I'm not getting done. Tomorrow I have homework to do - a whole semester to map out and plan for. And there is work-work to do too. I gave up one job so I could get through this last semester, but took on another theoretically smaller one. It's a good job, one I hope to carry on after graduation. It's been a long time since we've had a night like this, one where we've left the TV off, had the energy to do relaxing things, where I've thought, Maybe I'll write on the blog. -- I know we're closer to the end of January than the start, but I might say a thing or two about resolutions anyway. I don't make resolutions. Or rather, I don't like to broadcast my goals, and scienc...

It's the week after Christmas. NYE. The chaos has (mostly) died down, and we're all recuperating, right? This year, Christmas Day was quiet for us; gifts don't take long when there are only two of you. I made cinnamon buns, and then butternut squash soup. We missed (and then watched) the Queen's Christmas message, and a fascinating episode of The Nature of Things  about Stonehenge and its neolithic history. And then after dinner, I cried. Despite the near perfection of the day, especially its lack of busy-ness, I felt overwhelmed by life, by the reality of family expectations, by life change, and by my inability to pinpoint exactly what I "want" in life - especially in light of my nearly-complete Master's degree. "It just doesn't end," I cried, "I feel like it's all too much. Is this what the next 30 years will be like??" The next day I sat chatting with two quite delightful moms of young kids. Both readily admitt...

Once upon a time, I got into a very big fight with a friend. The kind of fight where bad words are said, and voices are raised, and tears are shed. We lived several provinces apart at the time, and since it was our only option, we skyped to try and resolve things. The first conversation ended in a stalemate, and we agreed to connect again in a week. At the beginning of the second call, we established something important; although her friends thought I was being a (w)itch and my friends thought she was being a baby, we were not willing to give up on our friendship. So we talked. Through the entire Super Bowl. And at the end, we still hadn't sorted things out.  I remember walking into the kitchen a little later, praying, "Jesus, if there is something I need to say or do that I haven't, show me what it is. Because I honestly don't know how to fix it." Then it hit me. So I sat down and emailed her. And she emailed me back. And it was over. The ne...

On Fridays, I don't go to school. And I don't go to work. I stay home. I still have work to do, but I do it at a desk in front of a big window, with a dog sleeping beside me. I listen to music (like Great Good Fine Ok ), I might bake, and I do laundry. Loads and loads of laundry. Sometimes I nap. I hang out with my housemates (dog and husband). This afternoon, we might go see a movie. Maybe we'll bike to the Distillery. Or grab lunch somewhere. Maybe we'll go watch the game at a pub, or maybe we'll stay home and try to survive the stress together. Any way I look at it, today is a gift. I have a full week next week, and this past one was full of job stress. I have had a cold for approximately 7 weeks (I am not even kidding you, folks). But today the sun is shining, and I'm allowed to say no to the things that are adding stress, and a resounding yes to the people and activities I love. Fridays are a gift, and sometimes they're a gift I turn down, l...