We’re okay. Even when life around us is most definitely not okay. And suffice it to say that these past few months have been a whole barrel of not okay. This morning I woke, fuzzy-headed, as is usual these days. I always begin with remembering what day it is, as though I was stranded on a desert island and had to keep a calendar to keep my sense of time and season.…
Hello all…. I can’t promise this is a return to regular posting but it’s an offering for you today! God bless and keep us as we shelter in. We can bridge the distance safely here. Let’s do it.
Dear Ones, Wow, it’s been far too long since I last wrote. I’m sorry to have been so absent. How’s everyone? Hanging in there in troubled times? Truth be told, I’ve been in a sort of self-imposed social distancing over the last year though it has nothing to do with Covid-19. I’ve always been ahead of the curve. Trendsetter. That’s me. In all seriousness, though, I wanted to write today to…
It’s hard to imagine moving house at nine months pregnant. I’ve never done it, though I’ve been pregnant and have moved house many times in my short lifetime. But to be traveling, well, fleeing really, and waiting for your first child to come, I cannot imagine it. I can remember moments, though, in which I was just hanging on, waiting, mustering courage and energy and hope to get to the next rest…
an excerpt from The Wilderness Journal: 365 Days with the Philokalia Day 187 “In other words, the incensive power, although God-given as a weapon, or, a bow against evil thoughts, can be turned the other way and used to destroy good thoughts as well, for it destroys whatever it is directed against. I have seen a spirited dog destroying equally both wolves and sheep.” St Hesychios the Priest Fire When…
Thunderstorms are my favorite thing. The crack of lightning, the rumble of thunder. Strong rain on my roof and me, warm in my bed, watching. Let me amend this to say that thunderstorms are my favorite thing when I am in a safe, warm, dry place. If I were camping, or stuck on the side of the road, or walking home from the bus stop, they might feel far more menacing, and…
So, imagine me packing furiously for this beautiful opportunity to speak at the (first ever) Ancient Faith Women’s Retreat when what does my friend, Melinda Johnson, who I like an awful lot, send me? Boom. I mean I know I wrote it. It took three years and a lot of puzzling over the first volume of the Philokalia, but to see even a photo of a stack of the book is…
