-

R.R.

 Storytellers and measures, take the two together you become a master. We, humans, are made to measure things. God counts the hairs on our head and the grains of sand. He tells his story. He is the master artist. He is the only thing that we humans cannot measure. There is no scarcity in who God is or in his love for us silly humans.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I AM RACIST AND SO, WHITE PERSON, ARE YOU

-
Image
I AM RACIST AND SO, WHITE PERSON, ARE YOU But We Don't Have to Stay That Way  Love Letter For My Sister Alright.  Before we dive into this SUPER fun topic let me start with the fact that you are being made new every day. You're not going to be allowed to stay where you're at in your racism. You are beloved. For the first time -practically ever- I'm not being sarcastic. You are so beloved. I don't know who you are (hi Mom!), but that doesn't matter.  I need you to know it and believe  it before we continue. Because this is not  actually fun. It's actually really shitty . If you don't believe beloved this could be dangerous. Don't get stuck. Please. Right now we're part of the problem, but we don't have to stay that way.  How did this whole thing come about?  I had one sentence in my head. I had to face my racism. Sitting cross-legged  on my bed I put on a random Spotify playlist. ("Sum Me Up" case you...
Read more
-
Image
  AUNT-HOOD.     I am so thankful for the thing that is aunthood. I have learned so much about others, Lord, the world and my place in it through this lovely bizarre thing. For those who don't know I have 20 nieces and nephews. My first nephew was born when I was 7. People kept nagging me about it which I was both pleased and annoyed with. Did I think it was weird? How'd I feel about it? What did I want to be called? Aunt, Ant? Um neither. Please. So weird. Then this little kid was born.   Cael. A shock of black hair. Freckles. I loved and love him so. I took pictures with my first ever Kodac camera. Man his skin was pink! So thankful that humourous, affectionate, passionately intense, class clown goofball of a now 14-year old (WHAT.EVEN.) was born. Really starting to live up to his nick-name..Caelman. Gives SUCH good hugs. The first to make me an Aunt. Aunt Rose, Aunt Rosie. Now two of the most beloved words in my life. ...
Read more
-
Want.  I want something sweet and good, something fierce and powerful, something deeper rooted and sure, something goofy and odd, something ordinary and mundane, something filled with joy and sorrow, with stability and choice, with habit and desire, with hurting and healing, with walking and running, something lasting, something great, something filled with light in the midst of dusty corners, something that has me humming, something growing and winding, something lasting. 
Read more