Wednesday, August 22, 2012

a.n.p. in august

I don't think there's any place more beautiful than acadia national park in the month of august.














































Thursday, August 16, 2012

faith to listen and to look

"When Jesus called Peter to come to him across the water, Peter, for one brief, glorious moment, remembered how, and strode with ease across the lake. This is how we are meant to be, and then we forget, and we sink. But if we cry out for help (as Peter did) we will be pulled out of the water, we won't drown. And if we listen, we will hear; and if we look, we will see."
-Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water



 If only I did not forget so often how we are meant to be.
A daily prayer for remembrance, for faith, for strength to overcome my fears, and by little and little I can see that renewal -- that peace, joy, and satisfaction -- which is promised to those who follow Him.

Friday, August 10, 2012

some of those beautiful faces

working at an orphanage over the past 2 months, I saw and grew to love so many faces. Here are just a few of them.







Thursday, July 12, 2012

here in Guatemala

I have been in Guatemala for over a month now, which explains my lack of posts here...

The Lord's been teaching me so much here, and challenging me as well. It's been hard work, but in the end it is worth it.

Some highlights:












Saturday, May 19, 2012

rich days


singing beach, manchester by the sea, massachusetts

Saturday, May 12, 2012

familiar yet almost forgotten

“We must work every day, whether we feel like it or not, otherwise when it comes time to get out of the way and listen to the work, we will not be able to heed it.”
-Madeleine L'Engle

Today, I listen to the waves,
feel the persistent breeze
nudge at my skirt and
the ends of my hair,
feel the numbness of my toes...

It is an experience of returning
as a new person, with the
same delights. The familiar
yet almost forgotten
communion of our
separate thoughts comforts
me as we walk side by side
toward the unknown haze.

The chill bites at my fingers.
I run out of ink in one pen
and ask for another. I continue.
Lord, what is my work for today?