Category Archives: Poetry and Stuff


O Most Holy God

How can I honour you

With less than perfect



I wish to be obedient.


Perhaps I have come

A fair way

Since beginning with you

But the million small demands of life

Don’t look sacred.

I tire of little humdrum tasks

You give me.


Obedience eludes me.


This slow work by you

Will re-create.
Give me the grace to live

 Till every heart beat, breath is yours.

Teach me your ways.

You’ve promised me a yoke that

Suits me well.


Obedience will become me.


O Most Holy God

Christ, Teacher, Renovator

Of hearts, perfect mine

For your glory.


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Winter Pleasures

Winter is not over yet – not by the looks of it.  We just got at least the 15cm of snow that was promised by the weatherman.  Since it came over the past 24 hours, and seems to still be coming down, the snow crews have not been able to keep up with it.  The picture above was taken last year after an early spring storm.  we have at least twice as much snow as in this picture.  I wish I could download some pictures of today but my USB connection for the camera has been borrowed. 

When I was at the women’s retreat on the weekend, I had time to think and write a bit.  I also went on a long walk and that always gets me thinking creatively.  So I did some poetry and thought about how our humanness is a wonderful gift allowing us to experience the world through all of our senses – our eyes, our ears, our taste buds,and the nerves picking up information from our skin.

 Winter Pleasures


Does your great majesty

Keep you from

The cold softness

Of tongue caught snowflakes?

The tingle of frost reddened cheeks?

The dazzle

A million crystal diamonds

Brings to the eyes?

The light shush

As wind calls

Through branches of spruce?


Perhaps these winter pleasures

Reserved for the likes of me

Were breathed into being

As hints of eternal glory.



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Morning Psalm from Elk Ridge

Morning Psalm from Elk Ridge

God, I awake to your morning light
And to the sounds of your creation;
The call of the loon in the mists,
The siren calls of the gulls.  Above,
Insects hum in my leafy roof   
Seeking the nectar of opening buds.
Already squirrels scold my presence
Waiting to raid my table.
You have kept me safely through the night
And I begin my day with you.
Today I will rest in your creation.
Feed my spirit with the joy of your presence,
With joy and rest, nourish me.

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Sodden promise laced with snow,
Drape yourself on the brown land
In grey soft sheets.
Embrace the waiting limbs,
Seduce the land,
Flatter the buds to swell.
We would have spring!


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Art of Broken Pieces

Child of mine,
You of the lithe body
And swift feet,
I wanted to save you
From these deaths of potential
From these experiences of adulthood
That should not be for you – yet.

Now it seems too late.

Trapped in the snare
Of choices poorly made,
The demons come with glee
To suck away your youth
And trip your dancing feet.
You were a work of art
To stir their jealousy.

A smashed jar cannot be filled.

My child
You know I’d willingly
Pick up the shards of soul,
To help restore.
‘T would be crudely done.
But there is one who waits
Who with his art of broken pieces, recreates.

A vessel fashioned by his hands,
Dropped in the roughness of life,
Will not be broken again.

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Best Friends Talking

The aroma of coffee fresh brewing
Will be forever morning sunshine
And the Good Book read.
Best friends talking
The day waiting to be embraced.

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I feel like a tiny child
Unable to say where it hurts;
Flushed with the fever of life
Listless and weak.
I wrap my arms around you
Like a child to it’s mother
Knowing that in that embrace
Healing will begin.

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