Psalm or Face Palm

Only the fridge and a computer fan

Whisper their condolences

To the solitude sought.


My mind, plenty loud like

Headphones clapped on

My ears, cymbals


On symbols of reception,

The white noise of

My own pseudo conclusions.


Psalm 51 like area 51

Draw my curiosity

To the mystery of grace


Folded into mercy

As the pairing of woofer

And tweeter balance


Morning upon mourning

Of music, while the songs

In the night fade.

“When I Awake, I Am Still With Thee.” Listening to God

Buford had to go.  Buford is big and his “going” is big, so I grabbed his leash and hooked him up.   He sent air kisses.  That is when his cow-like tongue would lick air between the closest pieces of my exposed skin.  A walk would do us both good.  I didn’t have to “go” but had to get going.

There is a path around the perimeter our seven acre field.  It is like an empty block lined with pines.  I used a brush hog last fall to carve a lane so I could stroll next to the whispers of God.  One of my favorite sounds is the hushed tones of wind being filtered through thousands of needles.

Years ago I was delivering a package.  There was a rain soaking, and the cool humidity seemed as though it was slowing the flow of my marrow.  I remember being a bit down after having breakfast with someone.  Life dreams came up in conversation and his dreams were out there on a farm.  He was raising organic cattle when he wasn’t crunching numbers.

After breakfast I was delivering packages under a blanket of emotional clouds.  O.K., I was bumming.  I was bummed all the way down to doubt.   Self doubt, God doubt was dripping slowly on my forehead as I walked a package of shoes to a stoop.   A question slipped out of my mouth.  I asked it out loud just above the asphalt.

“Do you love me?”

It was then the wind picked up and whispers of peace came.  I had not perceived the wall of pines.  Don’t misunderstand me, John 3:16 was always in my back pocket and Jesus loved me this I knew.  But when nature calls, God answering through his design, I listen fairly well.  His “yes” was as loud as a psalmists cry.  I added to the precipitation for a while and kept hoofing it from doorstep to doorstep.

I never would have imagined my own personal wall of pines.  This place, hemmed in by the whispers of God, blesses me hard and often.  My hope is to keep on writing about the grace that has handed me life.  God is good and His words speak to me from pages and pine trees.

How many ways does God bend your ear?  Be encouraged and don’t be afraid to ask God questions.

“How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!

How great is the sum of them!

If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand;

When I awake, I am still with You.” Psalm 139:17,18