This morning I woke at the farm


This morning I woke at the farm.

I read DeMello and Rohr and Mary Oliver. Copied some words down so they might cement themselves into my understanding. 

A letter to myself began: “Remember, Christa…”

I found a hidden place on a stone bench to stare at one particular branch blowing in the breeze about 25 yards away. I stare and stare and stare, listening for earth songs and the heartbeat of the Beloved. He can spill a universe of love into my soul with just His eyes. The trick is not looking away...

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