To love and to be loved…
Walk slow, people. 🙂
Perhaps He misses us as fervently as we miss Him. (Ruach means Spirit or Breath)
Pentecost is the celebration of the essence of God reaching down to us.
Eventually the snow will melt.
To the brave ones, who choose to love and shed light in dark places.
The Christmas child knew all about oppression, poverty and having to flee for your life.
Awaiting the light.
Nooo, it’s not too early for Jingle Bells!
The crazy ( French) discussion on the burka made me think of this little scene I saw at the beach. Freedom can only be offered, never forced.
A brave young woman embraced the life given to her in a strange new place. Her name was Ruth, which means friend.
Vive la France
Shouldn’t those of us who say we feel inspired by a God of love, be known first of all, as people who try to love deeply and without prejudice?
Come out and play!
Heroes tend to fall from pedestals. Some rise from the dead though.
Pentecost; when hope filled the air and lit a fire.
Sometimes we get a little sunburned when we embrace our freedom. So be it.
Cheers, here’s to imperfection.
Living together with a fifteen year old is an excellent and a challenging thing.
Easter tells a hopeful story that, eventually, love wins. However, the road to love can be lonely and difficult, a reality faced daily by the refugee’s on European doorsteps.
A sunny little poem:
Growing up in the biblebelt:
About Leadership and Election Day.
Eve; mother of all, bearer of life.
A new year full of opportunities!
Peace on earth, good will to men.
Black night in Paris. Picture taken by alessandro silipo.
No mountaintop without the valley.
Another little lovepoem. The beautiful sculpure is Rodin’s ‘Lover’s hands”.
Thoughts on the Middle East conflict, to the mothers on all sides.
I do love the fall. It brings out the romantic in me.
The 12 steps is a well-known and succesful method that helps people to cope with addiction.
To the brave parents in divorce, who chose to put the needs of their children before their own needs.
Inspired by C.S. Lewis, who for me was the first to give words to the longing.
For the Syrian refugees on our doorstep.
A little love song.
My poems can also be found at: https://www.facebook.com/walkslowpoetry/