Forgive Me Dear Friend

Forgive me Dear Friend,

I’ve stood You up recently.

Avoided really showing up

in the stillness of the morning.

Pretended I needed that extra half-hour of sleep.

Rationalized that You understand.

Your grace abounds.

These rationalizations might be true.

But the truth is…I’ve avoided sitting with You 

in the stillness of morning.

The empty open space of Easter

The Good News of resurrection

taste great.

And yet I know from experience


challenges me to embrace 

new ways of being and doing.

I know from experience that prayer

is not a passive practice 

or a one way street.

It calls me out in ways I both love and despise.

Forgive me, Dear Friend.

I embrace the Amen

that is just the beginning.

In the Belly of the Whale

It’s All Saints Sunday

and I can’t seem to cross the threshold

into a house of worship.

The shoulds whisper in my ear.

The outtas tap on my shoulder.

Still something inside says

Not yet.

Not this year.

This year I grieve

with a London Fog

and my cafe community.

This year I confess

there is still so much

not yet-ness in me.

This year I honor

that something still strikes

a little too close to home

when I read the struggles

of my sisters and brothers

who lead.

Something that snags me

like a fish lore

and I’m tugged

into the past.

Perhaps the coffee shop

is my whale

and it has swallowed me whole.

A womb that waits to deliver

me onto the shores of Nineveh.