Whatever He Says

Eyes wide open I walked; but phone resolutely tucked away, for the purpose of my walk is to be "with God," not clicking away, like a distracted tourist. But aren't I a tourist? Here on earth, we all visit for a relatively short time, and shouldn't we pay attention? And so I did, and noticed seeds, and thought of the rhythm of arriving plump with purpose and possibility in this world, and then seeding "our ground" before we leave. And then, back home, I peered from behind a mug of steaming and strong black coffee, at a page of poetry. And Mary Oliver spoke to me her thoughts: "For it is precisely how I feel, who have inherited not measurable wealth but, as we all do who care for it, that immeasurable fund of thoughts and ideas, from writers and thinkers long ago gone into the ground--and, inseparable from those wisdoms because DEMANDED by them, the responsibility to live thoughtfully and intelligently. To enjoy, to question--never to assume, or t

My morning walk with God is like the pastry of my day. Once you have the perfect foundation laid, whatever fills it will create a beautiful thing.

I walk the chattering, chirping morning village that smells as green and fresh as the day it's waking up to. I am an arrow: pointed; focused; sharp; thrust strongly; my feathers sleek, propelled by the hand of God towards his mark for this good day.