Snow settles like psalmson the cathedral of pines,each flake a whispered prayerin winter’s deep silence. Through frosted windowpanesI watch the sacred dance –crystalline choreographyof mercy falling soft and slow. The evergreens bowbeneath their white vestments,patient bearers of winter’s weight,keeping faithful vigil in the cold. And somewhere beneaththis blanket of grace,dormant seeds waitin their earthen chapel,…
Winter has arrived. The trees in the little park that I visited frequently and enjoyed all summer long stand naked now, their bare arms stretched out as though they are mourning the colourful leaves that left them. These leaves, after their summer lustre and brilliance of fall, now lie as a soggy mass on the…
January days are short, and evenings draw in quickly. After the bright sparkle of the Christmas season and the New Year’s fireworks, quiet winter settles around us with its early shadows and dark nights as we shift back to routine and daily life. This feels fitting. After the vibrant storytelling of the nativity, Love Incarnate,…
Young Nila loves to visit thrift stores with her mother to search for treasures. When Nila finds a puffy winter coat with an easy-glide zipper, she’s convinced it’s perfect and she needs it even though her old winter coat still fits her. She tries to persuade Momma to allow her to buy it with birthday…
Lent begins on Valentine’s Day as if this year is impatient to get under way. I’m sure there is still Christmas chocolate in my cupboard, but here we are, preparing for Easter already. The dates for Lent and Easter have shifted each year with the lunar calendar since 325 when the Council of Nicaea determined…
Winter may not be my favourite season, but I do appreciate much of its unique beauty. In the summer I’m often awake early, waiting for the robin’s song to announce sunrise. But in the winter’s darkness I need an alarm clock to rouse me from hibernation. Bleary-eyed, I follow the aroma of fresh coffee into…
All this festooning of eaves / and downspouts! Chimneys. Shingles. / Every edge. Who leaves behind / breath, like a call card / fished from the smock / of a wizened artist, with sable brushes / strapped to each hand, faceting / gutters and sycamore trees, / even that elderly, ivied tentacle?
June 2014. My team of five arrived in Beit Sahour. We met our homestay family, Orthodox Christian Palestinians who lived just outside of Bethlehem. Our days were spent volunteering at a local organization that offered respite for families with special needs children. Our evenings and weekends were ours to explore and learn. There was so…
When I was a child in Wisconsin, we could see the snow swirling like waves over the bare surface of Harvey Prinsen’s field. It had a certain beauty but it also meant cold. Drifting snow is a common part of almost any Canadian winter. Things are different in the Bulkley Valley of B.C. We have…
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