THE KISS (a poem for my husband)


I still remember the feeling I felt

When we first kissed…

I remember the spot my feet pressed into on the stairs

How the light held its softness

In the space around us…

So still

Was everything but my heart.

I remember the way your shoulders turned

As you leaned into me

The tilt of your face

And the scruff of your cheek

And your incredible smell…

You smiled as our lips met

And you pressed into me

All iron and ocean

At once indestructible and immoveable

and yet caressing, fluid and all encompassing

You wooed me with the promises you made me with your eyes…

Your kiss filled me with hope

the swell of your presence overwhelmed me

The power of your arms immured me

I felt you were invincib...

A Poem for My Children


O my children, how I will long for these days,

years from now when I am worn and slow.

Your eyes bright and innocent,

as you ascend the stairs in the big old house.

Gaggles of socks and lunch boxes,

snack time and worry over tests.

Broken friendships and mended hearts…

“Did you brush your teeth?”

Unruly, regal curls and cares over muscles and curves…

Seven wonderful hearts around my table every night; and, oh, the laughter!

The giddy giggles of sisters, cascading into my heart from aloft…and the abrupt adorations of brothers, vanquishing imaginary demons and emerging as heroes.

Ah! My children have vanquished many a demon in me!

Precious ones, remember me.

Remember all...

When I Die


Do not weep for me

When I die…

My sorrows, sung

My worries, wrung

The full breadth of the past, tightly hung

As a noose ‘round the neck of the enemy.

Do not weep for me

When I die…

My sin, slaughtered

My calling, coffered

My sacrifice of praise, perpetually offered

As I am enveloped by Christ in eternity.

Do not weep for me

When I die…

My blessings, blooming

My legacy, looming

My life of service to Christ, brightly dooming

The plans of pain for my seed, from the enemy.

Do not weep for me

When I die…

My cries, caught

My spirit, sought

The love of the Savior, tightly wrought

Around my soul and heart for eternity.

The Shepherd (A Poem for Mothers)


Never forget the value of what you do in your home.

Whether you are dusting the furniture or wiping bottoms,

Reading a story or comforting your toddler at the doctor,

Wiping down the table or on your knees praying,

You are shepherding the hearts of your kids.

You see, it takes all of that…

The cleaning

The teaching

The putting on of Band-Aids and answering emails…

To affect the lives of children.

Each day you wake up to these blessings of Christ wrapped in your flesh and bearing your name

And you stand in the gap for them

Doing what only you can do

And all the things that are so hard to do…

Each day you are the watchful eye of Christ

The just Hand of God

The comfort of the Holy Spiri...



“Have you heard it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.” Walt Whitman

It is difficult

becoming who I am.

Growing into

God’s original contemplation…

grabbing hold with understanding

of the maiden grains of dust

uniquely blended by Magnificence




Who am I, Lord?

I have spent years surrendering all

so much effort spent in forgetting

so eager to leave behind

the tarnished life, the waning over-being,

the pain-drenched whore I knew as sin

(but mistakenly thought was me).

And in that exhilarating exodus

I forgot myself.

So eager to lose myself to Christ

I lost sight of all the iron and spark He loves,


AROMA PART I (a poem for my father)

This is the first poem in a 4-part series on the concept of AROMAS… and how scents can trigger old things. Good things, bad things, Great Things.


Aqua Velva and Old Spice under the Christmas tree

Even to this day

I think of you when I

smell them

And the short season of my life

when you were the most

precious aroma to me

I remember burying my face

in your neck

your Devil Dog haircut

pricked and prickled

and I didn’t care

little arms wrapped around


Larger than Life

Humor and Strength…

falling asleep

on Daddy’s chest

AROMA PART II (a poem for my husband

This is the second poem in a 4-part series on the concept of AROMAS… Good things, bad things, Great Things.


All of my life I fringed about

lost in the dark places

the lonely spaces

of dank and dire

Until you…

Hard to describe your breath

sweet and masculine

always sweet

like the very air in your body

was laced with sugar and metal

like your lungs were

uniquely designed

to turn my pollution

into purity.

I first noticed it

at our first kiss

as you held my face

you inhaled

all my doubt

and wanderings

and exhaled all over me

the sweetest


for me

to give you my heart


AROMA PART III (a poem for the man who abused me)

This is the third poem in a 4-part series on the concept of AROMAS… and how scents can trigger old things. Good things, bad things, Great Things. Don’t worry, they aren’t all this intense. But I believe the mark of a strong mama is an emotionally healthy mama, and in order to be that we have to go to the dark places and slaughter the demons. I refuse to be afraid of the pain. I will face it head on and Christ will meet me and fight for me in the places of agony. And, funny thing, they become very tiny once Jesus has had His Way in those areas of my heart. He is Light and light reveals so healing can take place. This poem is just a reflection on an old pain. Don&rsquo...

AROMA PART IV (a poem for jesus)

This is the final poem in a 4-part series on the concept of AROMAS… and how scents can trigger old things. Good things, bad things, Great Things.


Your scent is multitudes, plethora, myriad

The wind of summer blowing ocean into my lungs

or buttercup essence against my cheek

strong like a hurricane

and gentle as distant thunder

Your breath is life, animation, resurrection

turning dirt into men and holding the earth in orbit

the flies of summer wade through Your exhalation and dance on its waves and excess

Does perfection have an aroma?

I inhale You, exhale You

Your breath is all around,


loving, protecting, refining, perfecting

And fills me even when

I forget You.

I Call You


And now I call you lover because I can be naked and vulnerable with you and I can trust you to hold my heart in yours.

To never leave.

To never forget to love me or that I am the apple of your eye.

I call you friend because I can talk to you at 3 in the morning after complaining to you all day and you still listen.

You have never once turned me away.

You sit and have coffee with me in the morning and give me the BEST advice, and rejoice in my bargain shopping and marvel at my shoes…

And we giggle together, my friend and I!

I call you brother, long lost, because you stick up for me now when the bullies of my life come into my head and try to take my spiritual lunch money.

You tell them to le...