Swimming to the Promised Land

icicles on barn

When Sun shines bright, my grip relaxes,

I let go of death and taxes,

pool at place where thirst is quenched,

smile where jaw was tightly clenched.

Puddling messes can be scary,

Life’s complex, and heart is wary,

but when fist becomes a hand,

soul can swim to Promised Land.


For more on this topic, visit Growing With God in My Garden

Clear This Path

Life can be – messy.



The path we tread

is often concealed by debris

left behind from the Fall.

It’s so easy to lose our way

when we are afraid to wade in,

engage with the  mayhem,

combat the clutter,

step on things that crunch

or go bump in the night.


if you hold my hand,

and I pin my heart to my sleeve,

we just might

muddle our way through.

Turn the tables on turmoil.

Clear this path.