My heart remains heavy from all the loss experienced in the last 10 days. Such a strange and disparate thing to know in my head the terrible reality being experienced in the affected communities there, yet the continued normalcy of our days here in AL. I suppose that’s how it always is in the world- but it feels different and more noticeable this week. Your new poem is my new favorite. I hope one day you will publish them all as a collection- I’ll be the first to buy. We love you, my friend. Holding you in our hearts.
Thank you for this amazing, beautiful new Psalm. Our hearts break with you, and for you and all who have suffered imaginable loss. We lift you all in prayer - that God will sustain, encourage, heal, and renew.
“You give and give in ways we do not comprehend. Listen to the trees just now. They are whispering a love song.” Oh the stories they hold. Such respect, such love I have for these towering sentinels that give so much shalom. Keeping you, Gwen and Peter and family, neighbors and friends, communities impacted in my prayers to the Maker of all comfort and beauty. Thank you for writing into the fray. Your words sing.🙏
Praise God for the safety you and Gwen are experiencing. But, it is obvious that there is profound destruction over much of our beautiful land -- may God bring good out of bad. Thank you for two wonderful poems.
Your tree poem is my favorite so far. But your prose is wonderful as well. I especially like this paragraph:
Trees—how do we take them for granted so in our lives? We forget and ignore their splendor. Trees are one of the most frequently used metaphors in Scriptures to help us find anchor, shelter and hope. My hope is that this poem might make us more aware—more tender towards them as they are to us. The illuminated woods are a glorious sanctuary to recover our lives. Now, these trees need to recover as well.
Beautiful. Blessings as you, your woods, and your town recover. I am still moving to Asheville in early 2025!
I will rise up and say what I know is true—alleluia.
My heart remains heavy from all the loss experienced in the last 10 days. Such a strange and disparate thing to know in my head the terrible reality being experienced in the affected communities there, yet the continued normalcy of our days here in AL. I suppose that’s how it always is in the world- but it feels different and more noticeable this week. Your new poem is my new favorite. I hope one day you will publish them all as a collection- I’ll be the first to buy. We love you, my friend. Holding you in our hearts.
Thank you for this amazing, beautiful new Psalm. Our hearts break with you, and for you and all who have suffered imaginable loss. We lift you all in prayer - that God will sustain, encourage, heal, and renew.
I’m grateful for your words.
“Spread open the heart of the Forest to show us the way out.”
Isn’t that an inviting line? I’m glad you caught it or it caught you!
“You give and give in ways we do not comprehend. Listen to the trees just now. They are whispering a love song.” Oh the stories they hold. Such respect, such love I have for these towering sentinels that give so much shalom. Keeping you, Gwen and Peter and family, neighbors and friends, communities impacted in my prayers to the Maker of all comfort and beauty. Thank you for writing into the fray. Your words sing.🙏
I’m grateful for your words!
Praise God for the safety you and Gwen are experiencing. But, it is obvious that there is profound destruction over much of our beautiful land -- may God bring good out of bad. Thank you for two wonderful poems.
I am grateful for your words!
Beautiful, Stephen!
Weariness, yes, profound tiredness is what I feel.
I only have a wounded alleluia to cope
Sometimes s coping is all we can do and even that is exhausting.
Your tree poem is my favorite so far. But your prose is wonderful as well. I especially like this paragraph:
Trees—how do we take them for granted so in our lives? We forget and ignore their splendor. Trees are one of the most frequently used metaphors in Scriptures to help us find anchor, shelter and hope. My hope is that this poem might make us more aware—more tender towards them as they are to us. The illuminated woods are a glorious sanctuary to recover our lives. Now, these trees need to recover as well.
Beautiful. Blessings as you, your woods, and your town recover. I am still moving to Asheville in early 2025!
Grateful! Come on!