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liturgical year

Unless a Seed Falls: John 12:20-36

Even I have to admit, it looks terrible: broken, rotting stalks, bare dirt, no happy winged visitors. I tell myself there are over-wintering insects in there, that native roots are strong, that spring is coming. But right now: stillness, death.
mm
February 24, 2024
artstheology

Blessed Unrest

We often wonder what God is calling us to do in a particular moment or passage of life. Could we ask ourselves, in such moments, “What is my blessed unrest here?”
mm
January 27, 2024
dunesMichigannaturepoetry

To Love Michigan in Summer

Sumac and scrubby grass, dense-leaved oaks and maples, jumbles of every possible green. Blue spruce, Douglas fir, white pines, red pines, the astonishing symmetry of jack pine trunks in a sudden stand. Dead trees like skeletons rising from swamps. Everything stubby and scruffy and sassafrassy.
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July 1, 2017