Through Glass and Fingertips

hollowed out, a log fallen
flat on the forest floor, a collection of ruins
heaped and spread, beyond repair

sand settled low in the funnel, time through glass and fingertips
the sum of years, sunk
treasures lost in shuffled lives lived facing different directions

different eyes see different things, but not the others
walls up, hearts held back
to hide in neutral, uncontested space

but love.

Love is bold, to break through
new life in the hollow
the promise of beauty from ashes, sprouted


There was momentum, success in writing some of the most precious stories of my heart, and then radio silence for two straight months. A series half-finished, and a heart consumed with other matters…in many ways shaken awake to responsibilities and realities that beg my attention more than my need to keep up appearances that I am a writing machine. I am not a writing machine. I am a busy mother in a season of living family adventures and challenges. I meant for it to be a momentary pause, but on occasion, moments stretch into months, and when the lungs I’ve been willfully holding breath in for many years finally exhale a swoosh of release from the need to always strive, always outrun the fear of tumbling blocks…well. The blocks have tumbled, and I have happened upon some of the most important personal discoveries of my adult life these past few months.

I have limits, and I rarely live by them. I swallow an elephant and look around for dessert. I shove some things to the side if they happen to be something I don’t really want to deal with at that time or anytime soon, and I try to fly with several overloaded satchels hitched to my wings.

It hasn’t worked out. I mean, I gave it a good run for a long stretch, but I’m halted, and wonderfully so. There is nothing especially dramatic. Just a wind of change. A hope for a healthier balance of life. I have every intention of finishing my series, it will just be on a looser timetable. I guess since I’m the boss, I can do that.

As I plunk the stories out, I will share them. Thanks for reading, and thanks for patiently waiting.

1401. The victory of a half-finished series, 1402. the quiet, but pivotal changes at my door, 1403. soul-swelling music that streams from my kitchen cupboard (via bluetooth speaker), 1404. rearranged rooms for kids, 1405. seeing the beauty of small, certain steps, 1406. the freedom to set down burdens, 1407. how words illuminate, 1408. toddler cuddles, 1409. the delightful taste of fresh oranges, 1410. embracing where I am

Processing Pain
February 20, 2017
Discover Your Real Priorities
October 4, 2016
The Futility of Making Plans
January 22, 2019
  • Reply
    December 14, 2017 at 6:01 pm

    I’ve been radio silent since Nov. 1st, too. I was in such a groove, but there was also relief with the shifting of gears for a time. Ideas still come while I’m doing the dishes, taking a shower, or as I’m falling asleep at night. I either scratch them in the periphery of my subconscious or on a scrap of paper on the counter, and for right now, that has to be good enough. There’s a time for everything, not time to be good at everything at once. 🙂

  • Reply
    Jody Collins
    December 14, 2017 at 7:27 pm

    1) yay! a poem!
    2) series? you were doing a series? see I didn’t even miss it (although I miss you)
    3) love the spiffed up look of the blog.
    4) so glad you’ve learned that lesson about swallowing elephants. It took me much longer to learn that than it did you…..

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