As kings to the cradle,
As shepherds to the stable,
To marvel at the miracle,
We come to this table.
We do not carry trunks
Of trinkets and treasures,
There is no bling
To the gifts we bring
The only gold we hold
Is grief’s tired gloss
Forged in the fires of loss
The incense of our imperfections
Burned as dross.
Travel-tired
Stor…
The softening of our heart in prayer prepares soil for the seeds of obedience to grow in; our exposure to the compassionate…
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Start writing today. Use the button below to create a Substack of your own Start a Substack Welcome to This is my…
But O For the Touch of a Vanished Hand, 1888, Walter Langley https://unsplash.com/@birminghammuseumstrust A frequent comment from participants in the Seven Stories…
“Change a word, claim a third” is an approach to song-writing credits taken — so some say — by a number of…
Huddle Coffee shop, Falmouth, UK I’ve been back in Genesis this week, it being a new year. I’ve taken to listening to…
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