-
The Unveiling
Pasture grass glistened from last night’s rain. As she circled, her amnionic sac protruded, then vanished. She laid back down. Head up, she chewed cud and rested. Overhead clouds broke. Angled light shafts scattered across the valley. Standing again she walked a few feet, looked to her rump, circled, then folded her legs and laid down, again. Clouds watched as…
-
Everyday Christ
When I think of the second Sunday of Advent I tend towards thinking of place. Whether it is the traveling return to Bethlehem or a John of wilderness, the place of life intrigues. Place, be it the straw, feed, and animals of a stable or locusts, honey, and the river Jorden, draws us to creational intimacy. Where better…
-
Apricot Leaf: Birth and Resurrection
Last night’s wind fell the last of the apricot leaves. Their fall ends a remarkable season. From spring birth to grounded resting they served us simple beauty, remarkable shade on a hundred-degree summer day, and protected their natural treed sibling: the apricot. Each year, fall apricot leaves teach me a little more about redemption. As the weather cools…
-
Becoming Disturbed
You can feel it without seeing it. The blank stare—over the phone. This was one of them. I’d mentioned the Doctrine of Discovery with that tone of “of course you—as a leader within the Church—know something about this.” I didn’t pick up on it at first and continued by saying the annual Winter Talk emphasizes accountability to the Indigenous…
-
All of Day
Butterflies are flying. I have set the irrigation lines and I’m now heading to turn on the irrigation pump. I notice small white and orange butterflies, of to my left, as I drive the four-wheeler along the eastern edge of the hayfield. I’m hurried and intend to kept driving. Sometimes nature gets the better of reason and I stop…
Chewing the Cud 