Silhueta Con Crema 

Nunca se acaba 

Este perfil 

Algo iluminaba 

Detrás de marfil 

Silhouette with a side of cream

I just keeps going and going

This profile

A source casts a certain light

Behind the marble

shall become as

you put this pen

in my hand and you
take the pen from 
         my hand. the night
before the full moon

            the moon seems

full. what is missing

is a dark hungry

            sickle, the sliver

of shadow eating

            us up inside. after

the mountains breathe

their mint-and-sorrow

            green against the long

summer sky, they burst

            into hot october

laughter, lighting

the horizon with citrus,

            rust, and blood. you

put this knife in my

           

            hand. we pull. we

meet as oceans come

together, heaving

            against and clinging

across our salt watery

            boundary. we approach

endlessly like two rails

of one track, tied

            in a parallel that

promises our eyes to

            merge, someplace far

off in the distance. you

put this feather in my

            palm. my fingers

close around flight.

Evie Shockley

I Thee Wed

This week I received the pictures from a dear friend's wedding. We have long referred to each other as "kindred spirits." It's a term that transcends the sometimes one-dimensionality of the word "friend." It hints at a deeper attitudinal bonding. And for us, it's like a river runs runs through it: a communion of the Spirit in each of us. A sisterhood that has the insurance of eternal enjoyment. What a promise!

When she asked me to be in her wedding, I was delighted. But when she asked me to play the violin in her ceremony, I was nearly reduced to tears. The thought of serving and beautifying the ceremony of their love with the sweet sawing of my fiddle's strings, harmonizing with the voice of her sister and the guitar of a friend, elevated my heart to a new level of contentment.

"Thy Mercy"

Great Father of mercies, 

Thy goodness I own

In the covenant love of Thy crucified Son.

All praise to the Spirit, Whose whisper divine

Seals mercy and pardon and righteousness mine. 

Hallelujah!

Nearly three months later, the riotous preparation leading up to 8-10-12 is a thing of the past, the life in the succulents and the color of the peonies have faded, the dresses are wrapped in plastic and placed in the attic, and the homestead that was the venue has most certainly held a dozen weddings since. Yet the journey for them has hardly begun.

Talking on the phone with her just yesterday, she sighed, "We have so much work to do." 

500 miles away, I do not have the privilege of witnessing the daily enjoyment of their bondage to one another. Nor do I observe the details of dinner-making and the routines they are creating. The hardships are as prevalent as the high times in marriage, I've realized. But the entire curve - with its peaks and troughs - is constantly moving up the Y axis when the Spirit rests firmly on the X, always pushing us Higher.

The simplicity of the phrase "husbands love your wives & wives respect your husbands," grounds her in a truth that silences pride and promises fruitfulness. Future glory is present hope. Tilled and replanted, her role as a wife (and his as a husband) will continuously be a work-in-progress. And while the naivety of the wedding magazine, spoon-fed, "you're-my-other-half" type marriage is like a bubble bound to be burst, there is an unmatched sweetness in welding your soul to another's and decidedly living to glorify and enjoy Him forever...together.

If you love their wedding photography, check out Elisa & Tres from inContrast images!

And if you want to know more about Kelsey, check out her blog!

Trail Head

For me, city life is a steady ascent towards insanity. After four weeks or more, I reach a red-line level of  industrial civilization tolerance and must get away. Following the pattern of the One I love the most, I retreat. So, two weekends ago I met Him and myself and my friends in the mountains for a weekend that healed and rejuvenated in a variety of ways.

These are sweet times of indulgence. 

While I feel confirmed in my placement in a city that at times feels like the driest of deserts, there is a longing for a separate peace. It is like disdain and love have combined in a vigorous way. But is that not what He meant when He said, "Father, take away this cup?" For as much as His love preceded the comment, displacement from His present situation was still desirous.

And so we hunker down presently. Enjoy slivers of uninterrupted time in the garden. In fact, we go there out of soul-level necessity. Then we return to face the hardness of the Call accompanied by our Sweet Companion.

While my soul pants like a deer for water, I trust in the deep-flowing rivers of the Spirit within me. Irrevocable hope is provided.