last light on the swan river


I tried my best to get out to ski last night but it wasn’t in the cards so I settled on a quick walk along the “Wild Mile” of the Swan River. It’d been a long, kind of tough day so my mind was spinning a thousand miles an hour, and I felt very restless- a feeling that usually dissipates when I’m outside. I wandered down the trail for awhile, feeling anxious and unfocused when I came around a bend and saw the setting sunlight beaming across the river. I climbed up on a snow bank to get a better look and marveled at the river’s midwinter strength and beauty. As the sun set I walked further down the trail, watching the trees sparkle and sway in the breeze and finally felt some calm. 

This Lenten season I am committing to practicing gentleness and forgiveness, with myself especially. To intentional daily movement, to finishing books I’ve started reading, to screen free mornings. 

I believe in adding to our lives during this season, joining Jesus in the wilderness by challenging ourselves to be better servants and more wholehearted justice seekers. What is lent calling you to this year? 
Be brave, spring is coming. 

thursday words

This Lenten season I’ve been trying to put my words on paper more often, and have been revisiting some old pieces of poetry to rework them and get my mind working again. This is for my parents.

elk mountain

My father burned 4 trees this season, the winter
unrelenting in its fury. The wood stove seizing any life
left from the logs, forcing heat out of bark and sap,
moisture cracking out of the crevices, echoing
inside the cast iron berth that hulks under
the mantle’s gaze.

You can smell the woodsmoke before you can see
the house. The trees funnel everything- the smoke,
the racket of spring peepers, the light at the end of day.
Sun and moon rise over the same mountain, cyclic,
like life in this hollow. Summers spent tending the earth,
winters spent burning pieces of it- the land keeping us.