THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks of paradoxes, it hosts both: blood and light. I see myself, and ask would God really want such a one as I? Yet here I stand, my silver cross a bridge between Moab's abundance and Bethlehem's dust. RUTH'S EXODUS Like Ruth, I leave the certainties of...
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Evening's Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening's sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil caught...
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
Evening's Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening's sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil caught in divine breath – lifting, falling, dancing between what was and what might be. How does one surrender the knowing to embrace the mystery of being beheld by Love? Some days I want to pin down the floating edges, to still these billowing notions...
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THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks...
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
