Monday, January 26, 2026

January Poem, 2026

Things I still love today

Toddlers, dogs, and other slobbery things
The way the sun comes from the south through leafless trees
turns the room to gold, makes sleeping dogs glow, mug-steam glimmer
My red wool coat, binoculars, a red-shouldered hawk on the wire, puffed up in the cold, so ruddy!
Bluebirds!
Forest racket- tufted titmouse, chickadee, dripping snowmelt, crunching ice, sudden cry- there is a yellow daffodil in the woods, yes, in January.
Moss, and pearly mushrooms on a log the size of a baby's fingernails
Cedar sapling sprouting from an ancient stump, green on white snow
Kindness.
My father's Bible, marked up, words underlined on a morning perhaps three decades ago at 6 am, looking, looking, for God's justice in the world-
Prayers I can still grasp in my hand and hear, roaring, made of true materials, 
an eternal cry-
no matter all the doubts that came after and in between.
Last but not least, you, whose heart I long to hold in golden fingers and breathe life, love, upon.





Tuesday, January 13, 2026

An Ode to the Fiercely Gentle of Heart

The hands of the weak are strong. Photo by my mother, Patrushka

There's a scene at the beginning of the book of Matthew in the Bible where Jesus' cousin, John "the Baptizer" is attracting a LOT of national attention for his bold words, actions, and behaviors that are very very prophet-like. There haven't been any prophets speaking for God in hundreds of years so everyone is very excited and going out to the wilderness to see him. He's calling for repentance from living for self, and baptizing willing people in the river as a sign that they have turned toward God and the old self-is-number-one life is washed away.

Then, the established local religious bigwigs start coming out to see him and try to get baptized. John takes one look at them and oh boy he SEES them, CLEARLY. He is not afraid to say it like it is: "You brood of vipers! ...prove your repentance by the fruit that it bears!" These guys haven't got any of the kind of fruit John is looking for. No baptism for you, boys. Not today.

If we zip over to the book of Luke we can find out what kind of fruit John is looking for because Luke describes what kind of conversations he had with people who actually truly wanted to know what the "fruit of repentance" looked like:

"The people asked him, "Then what are we to do?" He replied, "The man with two shirts must share with him who has none, and anyone who has food must do the same." Among those who came to be baptized were tax-gatherers, and they said to him, "Master, what are we to do?" He told them, "exact no more than the assessment." Soldiers on service also asked him, "And what of us?" To them he said, "No bullying; no blackmail; make do with your pay!"

Not long after this, Jesus begins his ministry and gives his first big chunk of teaching about what God is looking for in humans.

"How blessed are those who know their need of God; the kingdom of Heaven is theirs.

How blessed are the sorrowful, they shall find consolation.

How blessed are those of gentle spirit; they shall have the earth for their possession.

How blessed are those who hunger and thirst to see right prevail; they shall be satisfied.

How blest are those who show mercy; mercy shall be shown to them.

How blessed are those whose hearts are pure; they shall see God.

How blessed are the peacemakers; God shall call them his sons.

How blessed are those who have suffered persecution for the cause of right; the kingdom is theirs.

How blessed you are, when you suffer insults and persecution and every kind of calumny (slander) for my sake. Accept it with gladness and exultation, for you have a rich reward in heaven; in the same way they persecuted the prophets before you."


This world is dominated right now by people in power who live by the belief that might makes right and it always will and there's no use trying to think it could be any other way. It gets worse every day, as bullies with a fiery desire for instant obedience, deference, and respect are given guns and applauded by their superiors when they use them to kill anyone who objects to their demands.

But, I have hope. Because there are more of us who want what Jesus said he is looking for in humans than those who scoff and rage and glory right now in the power they have been given to commit violence on other humans. I see you, friends, even if you do not call yourself a Jesus-follower. I know the difference between a person whose heart is filled with anger and hatred and violence and a person who has a gentle spirit. I love you, people who hunger and thirst to see right prevail, who show mercy even to those who are hating on them and slandering them, who are filled with sorrow when they see evil in themselves and take accountability for it and do not want to let it grow and distort and twist them. You do not need to have the label "Christian" on you for me to see that in you and adore you.

The reason (okay, one of many!) I follow Jesus forever and ever is because I am so, so deeply attracted to his character- one that is so deeply loving and consistent and merciful to anyone who has a yearning heart for what is good. He is the embodiment and fullest expression of all the things I love the most and have a raging hunger for. A life of complete non-violence, no "lording it over others," no bullying, no grabbing women because he could, no taking whatever he wanted. A life so completely antithetical to the way power works in this world that the world-power executed him without him raising a shred of resistance... and then he showed them that even execution could not stop Him and the life to the fullest that He brings. Peace, non-violence, love, humilty, gentleness and joy showed that they are greater than all the power and weapons in the world.

Anyone, anywhere, who shows that core belief radiating out of their heart- you are my beloved, no matter what name or label you have for yourself. And I see more and more of you rising up and showing yourselves every day- so, TAKE HEART! Love WILL overcome.


Saturday, January 10, 2026

Peace that appeases & Peace that brings a sword

Christ and the Pharisees, Anthony Van Dyck, 17th cen.

“You must not think I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. I have come to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a son’s wife against her mother-in-law, and a man will find his enemies under his own roof.”  -Jesus
(Matthew 10:34-35)


Brutal events are rocking the nation that I live in. Events that I cannot frame in any way that makes it all come out okay. We have entered an era of violence and disregard for human rights that I never expected to see in my country, an era in which those with power think it’s okay to do anything to another human without due process if you and the powers that be think they deserved it. It’s a time when walking bags of black mold in masks and uniforms or in expensive suits and ties (or high heels) re-write history and spray-paint over the truth to make the walls look clean and white instead of bloody and stinking with death. To think we weren’t ever like this before, of course, is a lie. We’ve always been a nation with plenty of skeletons banging on our closet doors, skulls piling up in the sewers no matter who was in power. But this level? No, I never imagined it. 


It is with all of this in mind that I wrote today. My husband kindly made me an Americano with his snazzy new espresso machine to power me up and I took a few hours to sit outside in the unseasonably warm weather and write. The dogs came by and barked a few times but otherwise I had some unusually good focus to think thoughts that have been bubbling below the surface for a long time. I wrote this mostly for myself, but I hope it speaks to you too.


If you have never read the Bible for yourself and you give it a go, you may be surprised by the shocking and unexpected things Jesus says sometimes. He left the mouths of the religious leaders of his time gaping in offended astonishment, that’s for sure. The masses of “regular” people loved him. The rich, powerful, and influential did not. 


Of course there were exceptions on both sides, but generally the people who felt powerless, downtrodden, and sick of the endless evil and oppression, sick of a government and a religious leadership who didn’t care a hoot about their troubles and in fact scorned them- they were flocking after Jesus in droves. Jesus preached a message that leveled the playing field. A message that raised up those who were crushed underfoot and brought down those who did the crushing. He spoke truth to power, right to the face. People who felt utterly powerless LOVED seeing him standing up to the brood of vipers, as Jesus called the establishment (one of my kids, encountering this side of Jesus in the Bible for the first time, asked if it was really okay for Jesus to insult people like that!).


But Jesus also had this tendency to turn right around and speak a dose of deeply uncomfortable truth to the masses, too. They wanted him to bring down the oppressive powers right then and there. They wanted more signs and wonders- more healings, more miraculous feasts and weather control. They wanted what we all want- 


an end to the horrors- 

evil people in control grabbing everything for themselves,

spewing lies and distorting truth,

treating lives as disposable and cursing as they kill anyone in their way

an end to the thugs,

the vicious, the cruel, the shameless

the war-mongers, the shooters, the bombers

the rapists, the traffickers

no more! no more starvation, dirty water to drink and endless disease

no more dead children, dead loved ones, NO MORE DEATH!


Don’t you want it? We want it with all our hearts! but the violence goes on, and on, and on, 

as we scream and debate what is true and what is false and AI gets better and better at making lies to fuel the flames. 


You would think Jesus wants this too, so why doesn’t he give us what we want if our desires are so good? Why didn’t he give the downtrodden masses the peaceful kingdom they wanted, with all evil vanquished, and the crushing perpetrators burning forever and ever in the white hot rage of a God who finally wreaks vengeance on those that did unspeakable things to innocent children? Why?


No. Jesus turned and said to our longing hearts- 


“You must not think I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. I have come to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a son’s wife against her mother-in-law, and a man will find his enemies under his own roof.” 

(Matthew 10:34-35)


Jesus came and declared war on a world consumed by evil, and we did not like that idea. No more war! No more suffering! Make it all better NOW!


We think we want a peaceful world cleansed of all evil and injustice, but we ourselves would be barred from it. Have you heard this quote before?


“The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right through every human heart."


Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote that, in The Gulag Archipelago. He also wrote this:


“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them.”


Jesus did not come to earth to bring an end to all evil then and there because to do so would be to kill all of us and bring an end to the human race. Strangely, very strangely (considering all the terrible things we do), he loves us, and doesn’t want any one of us to perish. Not one. 


Instead, he came to declare war on the dark forces that have their tentacles wrapped around every single one of our hearts, infiltrating us, rotting us. That tends to offend us, to imply that we are on the same level as our oppressors and abusers. I do think there are categories of evil and you can’t put killer thugs in the same category as the average person walking down the street who has never killed, kidnapped, or robbed a bank, and certainly not in the same category as our beloved children who only have the barest inklings of right and wrong. But who is drawing the lines? I couldn’t do it. 


He did not come to bring a peace that appeases evil. You don’t need a sword for that. You only need groveling go-along skills for that kind of peace. The only peace He is satisfied with is a peace where he has removed every single drop of the elixir of evil from our veins and leaves us totally, completely evil-free, and that takes a sword.


People loved it when His words antagonized the strong and powerful oppressors.  They did not, however, appreciate it when Jesus told them that the same evil that had completely corrupted the hearts of the power was at work in their hearts too.


I think evil might be something like a fungus (no offense to kingdom fungi which sustains life on planet earth in incredible ways we are only beginning to discover). We are all born with the spores of evil potential on the surface of our hearts. The spores are looking for opportune spots to work their little fingers of moldy mycelium inside and begin eating, decaying. Some of us are in a state of active combat against the fungus, while others of us have let it fully consume us until it has spread over our whole being and is fruiting death-spores everywhere. Most of us are somewhere in between. I think we can all think of examples of people on both ends of the spectrum, from every single culture and historical era- those who have fought hard against the fungal creep of the dark and those who have given in and let it consume them until they no longer have any discernible spark of humanity left.


When Jesus brought this light of truth into the world as God in a fully human body, the fact of his birth was an affront to the evil powers. Everywhere he went, everything he did, resulted in more light and also darkness fighting back even harder to try to overcome it. The local Evil Fungus in Chief King Herod finds out about his birth and orders his soldiers to go to the town where Jesus was born and slaughter every baby boy under two years old in an attempt to stop the light in its tracks. The evil is offended and driven to higher and higher acts of violence against the light until it succeeds in having Jesus brutally executed, tortured and nailed to a cross to hang in agony until he dies, not knowing that this death will result in the rising of a light so bright that it will overcome every last bastion of darkness in the universe.


Like the black mold in our showers, evil hates the light. And Jesus comes with a lamp. He is the light of the world, and no darkness can overcome his light. He brings a lamp to shine into every single dark and secret corner of a willing human heart in a relentless search to remove every last mycillia of evil. It doesn’t matter how far gone, how decayed and eaten the heart is… if there is any last gasp of desire for what is light and good, He will enter in and turn the tide and make that heart whole and sound again. 


We are living in the middle of a brutal battlefield where it seems that evil holds the upper hand, but it does not. All evil begins in the heart and works outward to kill and destroy, but Jesus has a brilliant star to plant in our hearts that completely heals and restores- not all at once instantly, but like a medicine that takes time to do its work, yet showing from the first dose that the tide has turned. He promises, promises, that when He brings the Kingdom of Justice, Mercy, Peace, and Love and makes all things new and whole, our hearts will not hold even one tiny strand of evil to bar us from entering into this glorious new morning. And that is a truth that evil will bring its sword of violence against until every last shadow is finally destroyed.


Come, oh Bright Star, rise in our hearts!

 





 

Saturday, December 27, 2025

DJT in a Coonskin Cap

Rembrandt's painting of the Prodigal Son
It happened again… Since the time he first ran for election, I periodically
have had dreams about our president, Donald, that do not mesh at all with my waking opinions and observations about who he is and what he does. Let's just say my opinions are not approving ones and leave it at
that.

Last night on the dream-stage of my brain, I was one of his closest trusted assistants and we had a friendly relationship. I followed him around with a notebook and paid attention in meetings for him so he could doze off. Meetings to which he wore a full deerskin Daniel Boone outfit complete with coonskin cap (thank you, dream costume department, I'm not sure what to think about that). We had a poignant conversation in which he confessed that he was very worried about what would happen to him when he died. I asked him if he had ever heard the story Jesus told of the prodigal son and he said no, he had not, so I began. 

There once was a loving wealthy father who had two sons. The younger son demands his half of his inheritance before his father is even dead, takes off for another country and squanders the money in wild living until it runs out. Then there is a famine in the country and the only job he can find is tending pigs. He is so hungry that he wishes he could eat the pig's food. At that moment, he “comes to his senses” and thinks of his father, a good man, who might hire him as a servant if he gets on his knees and begs for forgiveness, and then at least he would have food and shelter.

While the son is walking down the road towards home and still a long way off, his father sees him and recognizes him in the distance. He goes running to meet him and throws his arms around him, and while the son is trying to stammer out a speech he has prepared about how he has messed up and is not worthy to be called a son anymore, the father is hysterical with delight and is yelling for his servants to come bring clothes for his son and start planning a giant party for his homecoming. "This son of mine was dead, and now he is alive! He was lost, and now he is found!" (the story goes on very interestingly and I recommend you read it yourself, but this is as much as I told our president in dream-land).

As I told this story, Donald began to sit up and a it seemed a great weight lifted off of his shoulders. Something changed in his face, an expression of daring hope that I have never seen before in real life in any pictures or videos of him.

As usual after one of these dreams, I woke up thinking, incredulously, that pigs are more likely to fly first than to see DJT have an authentic, all-encompassing change of heart. It is very, very hard for me to imagine such a thing becoming reality. But once again, I choose to interpret such a dream as a reminder to pray for this person who I do not like at all in real life. He has committed unspeakable atrocities against vulnerable people... but Jesus seems to tell us that even a Donald can come to his senses, by the grace of God. And when and if he does, he will learn that he is loved unconditionally, not based on any achievements or victories or peace treaties. Nor is it love nullified by his history of cruelties and injustices. He will become a person who can look at his life clearly, grieve at what he has wasted, and understand how he has broken his Father’s heart over and over again with how he has treated those he was supposed to love, serve, protect and lift up. True repentance will make him become a willing and glad participant with the Father in restoring all that he has abused and broken. This is the truth for any of us, no matter who we are or the level of our crimes against God and humanity.

Our Father,
who is in heaven,
holy is your name!
Let your kingdom come,
and your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven:
so that your child Donald may come to his senses, run toward you, and be transformed as only you can transform. Let his heart discover what it means to be truly and unconditionally loved, that your love might begin to pour out as a new refreshing spring from his dry and dusty heart. Let he who is dead come alive, and he who is lost be found. Amen.

Wednesday, December 24, 2025

Getting through Christmas 2025

A friend I told today how much I was struggling told me to get writing, so here I am.

I have never been a person without two living parents before. I had no idea what this was going to be like except that it would be hard. And I purposefully didn't spend much time dwelling on it these past few years since I have long learned that pre-preparing mentally for imagined hard things in the future is not worth the effort. I can't ever get right what it is *really* going to be like so practicing for it mentally is an exercise in fruitless anxiety. 

Boy, is it hard. Wicked hard. And getting harder every day, not easier. I didn't expect that. 

A long time ago, a few of my family members and I decided to go climb Mt Washington up in New Hampshire. We hadn't been training for it, it didn't sound too hard, we were young and strong. Why not? We'd go up and camp at the foot the night before, start early in the morning, and climb up and down in one day and drive back home that night. 

That day was one of the hardest feats of physical exertion I've ever done. The last stretch was the worst, just mentally steeling myself to put one foot down in front of the other. But, we eventually got to the top. We did it. We rested a bit as the fog blew in and out, I don't think we got to see any views. And then it was time to go down. 

Going down was so much worse. 

Legs that had already given their all going up were not prepared for a long, steep descent. Knees like jelly, growing more and more painful and wobbly all the way down. We finally made it down but then we had to take turns driving home, everyone else in the car dead asleep, driver trying so hard to stay awake. I was in pain for weeks afterwards. I remember having to go up and down stairs sideways one step at a time because it hurt too much to lift legs up and down the normal way.

I am not sad I gave it my all, caring for my parents. I have no regrets. Love made it possible. I loved them SO much and my sisters felt the same. We wished we could have given them more and more and more, but we only gave what was humanly possible to give. I don't think we could have given more no matter how much we tried. So while I live with the sad reality that there was so much pain and suffering, these last five years especially- I'm not beating myself up with regrets about what we couldn't do. I am blessed to have had parents like them, not mean or abusive or addicted to substances. I can only say that as hard as it was, they made it far easier for us to care for them than the parents many of you out there have to deal with. Because there was always love, and grace even at the hardest times. The neurological decline they had miraculously did not steal that away from us like it easily could have. I am so, so sorry for those of you that do not or did not have that. Bless you.

So here I am, collapsed at the top of Mt Washington, or perhaps I am already descending the steep rocky trail, but I am so, so tired. My body and brain keep doing things I don't expect and my executive functioning that worked so hard to keep it together to be able to make sound medical decisions for my dad has gone Ker-Plunk and sunk to the bottom of a deep pool somewhere. Is it Christmas Eve? Why yes, it is. We went to church this evening and I could only barely manage to be there. I took refuge in a dark room at the back and traced a complicated goose on my iPad while I listened to the service and calmed myself down. I came out for the Lord's Supper and candles and Silent Night.  We went home and I disappeared and wrapped presents and tried to watch a nice tame nature documentary but nope, they just had to turn it into an intense drama between hungry mama wolves and mama sea otters trying to protect their babies complete with fraught music portending doom. I can't take that. Turns out I couldn't even take Jack Black as the Polka King either because I can't handle good old Polka-loving folks getting defrauded in a Ponzi scheme. It's like when I had a concussion- anything even slightly "too much" is like sandpaper on my poor raw brain. Everything is just too much.

I wish you all a blessed Christmas. Merry? Ha. Not likely around here at the moment, but the One who started Christmas is here with me even when I'm not feeling merry at all, so it's all good. Bless you, friends, I love you all.





Thursday, December 18, 2025

It's Ungrokkable

Six-year-old me standing in a field

Two weeks. That's how long it's been since my dad hasn't been here where I can touch and see him and kiss his whiskered cheek and I don't like it AT ALL.


As my dad would say- I just can't "grok it." How is this even possible? It is forcing my brain to grapple with the deeply un-understandable and mysterious. I believe by faith that he has followed my mother into a different world, a different kingdom, a different everything- and that he still exists. In fact, him dying drives that faith home even deeper and harder, because I saw it. I saw him there, and then not there. I think anyone who has sat in the presence of a soul leaving the body knows exactly what I am speaking of, and if you are still a die-hard materialist after witnessing that, I fully admit I have no idea what it is like to be you (but it's okay, I'll still love you). One moment there is a complete human, and then next moment there is a deflated tent where the poles have collapsed and no one is in it. There is no doubt. That person is gone, and it is every bit as shocking as Bilbo Baggins putting on The Ring at his eleventy-first birthday party and disappearing into thin air. The movies are wrong. Nobody looks like they are sleeping when they are dead. My dad went from sleeping in his body to not in it at all in a split second and the transformation was unmistakable.

When my sister brought my mother's ashes over to the care home where my dad was staying, she carried them in the beautiful rosewood box inside a paper shopping bag, in case he expressed a desire to see it, but hidden so he wouldn't see if he didn't want to. She opened the door and my mom's friend and fellow dementia-sufferer, Linda, was sitting in her wheelchair at the kitchen table. What a gift Linda was- her sweet smile, beautiful eyes shining with love, happy to sit next to my mom and hold her hand for many months. When my sister walked in Linda looked up in surprise and said "How did you do that? How did you bring her back here?" Clearly she saw my mom. What was going on? My brain can't "grok" that either. It makes my head feel cloudy. The brain wants to understand and put things into neat understandable categories. But to even try here is an exercise in nonsense and I think that is why if you decided to explain it away to me in either scientific or spiritual terms I would instinctively like to punch you in the nose (metaphorically, but emphatically).

Perhaps this is why in the last few days I have not much wanted to do anything in the online world. I have wanted to hold real books, read Psalms from a real Bible, smell leaf-mold, feel my dog's silky black fur and listen to the funny snorts he makes at all times due to a deviated septum. I want real things that anchor me into place where I am in this world within this body I am existing in right now. Crackly leaves, smooth wood, cacophony of bird song. Hugging arms, love, embrace. I need security and tangibility in the midst of such un-grok-ability. 

I was born, I grew, I became a teenager, I became an adult, but none of those things felt like this, like Noah's flood scouring and completely remaking the world, rocking the foundations and transforming mountains and valleys. Dazed animals and people wandering out of an ark on a mountaintop to something totally unfamiliar. A scoured, devastated landscape, wiped clean, where they are expected to make a new life. Culture after culture around the world tells this story, this flood, this re-making, upending-- the survivors trying, impossibly, to grok it. 

My bedrock just subducted under another continental plate, the ones who brought me into this world have gone out of it, and I cannot recognize this new landscape I see in front of me. I think there will be good things there, and I have my own compassionate Shepherd to lead me. I feel him. I know perhaps more than ever the reality of his presence and love with me. But he is with me AND I am still me, here, totally bewildered, crying a lot, exhausted, washed up on a beach in a storm, and also soothed listening to the waves and thankful for warm, dry sand to rest on.

Wednesday, October 8, 2025

Cream of Potato & Greens Soup with lemon, bacon, chives and crispy shallots

 

This picture has no glamour lighting and it is just my freshly served-up bowl on my dining room table, but trust me, this something you cannot stop eating. Just one more spoonful please! If you do not have the privilege of a fridge full of splendid vegetables from In Good Heart Farm, I am sorry. Join the next CSA season. Move to central North Carolina if you must. This features everything good we are offering at the moment and it is Alpha-gal safe for those of you who have joined our elite community and know what that is. No mammal ingredients!


Sauté the following over medium heat in however much olive oil you think is needed. Just add the ingredients as you chop them, stirring as you go.
1 yellow onion, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon garlic powder
2 teaspoons Dilly Mix made by Patricia at In Good Heart Farm* 
5 potatoes, diced (wash but don't peel, leave those nutritious skins on)
3 Hakurei turnips, diced 
1/2 bunch of collard greens, stems removed, leaves chopped
A few handfuls of fresh nettle leaves (about an ounce)

Add:
6 cups chicken broth
Let this all simmer until the potatoes are tender. Remove from heat and puree well in a blender till creamy. Return to pot on low heat.

Then add:
Juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cup nutritional yeast
salt and pepper to taste
A splash of vegan whipping cream if you have it

Serve with:
Chopped turkey bacon you have been crisping up in the oven at 350
Lots of finely chopped chives
Crispy fried shallots (latest favorite thing from Trader Joes)

*ingredients are dried green garlic, onion, dill, celery and Maldon finishing salt