Noise competes for our creative soul. Clarity is somewhere the echoes of a silent room.

I cannot find spare words. Clatter invades even with my eyes closed. When I open them again life shrieks to be cleaned up, cared for, ordered.

This noise competes for our creative soul. Clarity is somewhere the echoes of a silent room.

The bare pages have waited for me to trust myself with words again. First words spill like heart ache.

Advertisements

My Very Little Faith

1. As it turns out I have A Very Little Faith. Perhaps I am a product of my human father who believed personal greatness was achieved through his tenacious hard work. Having a false humility, showing off A Very Big Faith, I saw that it was one that didn’t fundamentally change his character. Not really. This…

Happy Birthday to Me: A Look Back. And A Book Release.

I’m forty-eight today. Surreal. We will not celebrate for various reasons, none of which are as morbid as you’re imagining.  It is: no wish to celebrate (yes, I told Tom not to do anything) and being a little broke. I’m content. Instead of writing my annual birthday post, I’ve listed all the essays and poetry I wrote…

New: When God Seems Silent

 1.  I have not lost hope though I have lost the ability to hear God. Whether God is silent, which I doubt, or whether the pain throbs too loudly in my heart’s chamber to hear, I don’t know. What my family is experiencing is not suffering. Life is hard and this distinction is important to…

How to Love a Drunk: Bits of My Story are published and #FFWgr

How to Love a Drunk When you’re an alcoholic you get to tell your story  and admit to your illness at the oddest moments. There is usually no time to prepare emotionally or to get the words just right.  What comes is what comes.  I actually enjoy these unrehearsed moments.  The questions I’m asked push…

Organizing and Rearranging

Hi, After having this blog for six and half years, I’m finally reorganizing. WordPress sends their congratulations.  I take the time to go back and look and my first post was 2008, October.  If that’s true then I’ve been sober six and a half years.  Hooray! Today I accidentally sent an empty page to you. Sorry for…

{be Light} a poem

be Light. God spoke and said: be Light. and whether we wanted it, when we are trying the least to be we are Light. from inside us comes creative acts, audaciously arranging the Light, into words that move stone mountains, dances that soar, minds transformed, images breaking hearts open crushing the death within, chords shifting…

Lent Diary: The Mundane, A Holy Awareness, Our body, and Jesus

My first Lenten post is here. These are the indiscriminate observations from days one and two.  Often, I allow dailiness of life to flood in, the tyranny of the urgent family agenda turning me half brain-dead.  Just do the next thing, if grumpily. In The Sign of Jonas, Merton says:  “I ought to know, by now,…

If Winter is Dying, then Writing is Life

This isn’t my usual type of post. I have some thoughts ruminating into a slow boil. Aching about justice & the Stand Your Ground law and being white and privileged. A response. But I need more time to mull. I finished the article on loving a drunk for Today’s Christian Woman. Ahem, I know. I’m not a likely writer for…

When I Was A Falling Down Drunk: A Love Story

It’s only been a few days but I feel it.  In the hidden, hard place where I keep my little girl heart that learned to be scared too early.  That place in my heart has shifted. It might be that I am writing out the story of how I once was a falling down drunk. …

As The Winter Is Long [a NEW Poem]

In the dreary midwinter time is never-ending and merciless. I chase the shadow’s bright reflections, brittle patterns on the silvery snow. This distracts me from the echoing lament I woke with today. Melancholy sits dismally on my chest, like a lethargic cat As I consider what’s gone wrong with me. There’s always something and I’m…