When all your friends are gone . . .
When I feel the need to defend myself to the universe,
words fall flat.
There are never enough words to balance out the weight of weakness, the sting of sarcasm, so why not be content to let criticisms fall where they will,
knowing that Maker picks them up and carries them in His own woundedness.
somehow I feel like my limping justifications and explications carry more weight in the bigger scheme of things.
they only fuel the contempt railed against me. So
I will rest—help me rest in You.
My epiphyte didieri orchid is blooming its tiny flower now (1 1/2″ across). It doesn’t last long, but it is fragrant as evening falls.
Cattleya Hain Buu Lady Orchid: I feel like I want to send out birth announcements!
It’s like sign language in the fog;
it’s like shouting into the wind, this barely touch and go we do—
left soul-naked and alone. And words fall.
And I can’t care more than you about connection and communion, and
I can’t expect more from the unwilling. So should I stop talking, coming,
trying to imagine your silence might be full of concern, prayer, and even
Though silence might not mean indifference, that’s what it feels like.
Though silence might not mean abandonment, that’s what it feels like. And
closing a door to a sliver of possibility is better than these quiet beatings,
these solo-sadnesses of what is repeated