There’s a dry wind blowing.

There’s a dry wind blowing.  It’s been a swirling for awhile now – full of insistent presence and power but elusive in it’s direction and purpose.  It keeps on calming – then by a word or a sound, by a need or a wish, it gets stirred up again and kicks up the small grit of sand and light dusting of dirt for notice.

I succumb.  I do not have to know the direction to or from to acknowledge and post: there’s a dry wind blowing and its called The Pecos Project.  Now, let’s see where the wind takes us.  Together.

Trust God. Trust Love.

I’ve either lost my mind or, what?  Oh well, the subject matter is love so surely it can’t hurt too much, and I’ll post it as coming from my Outbox as “Unsent Mail”.

This was the final thought from my morning time and writings and it sounded like you. Or felt like something I needed to send to you – not as instruction, but rather confirmation of what you already know, embrace, teach.  And in support of you – to fill you as you give to many.  This is how it came, and went.

But hold no doubt – love is all there is. All that matters. Lay down your block or stone of contempt or self questioning – trust God. Trust love.

Unlocking The Door

Doorknob Durango Engine #476 by LD Prebilsky
Doorknob Durango Engine #476 by LD Prebilsky

Huh.  Imagine that?  After writing journals all morning long, it hits me.  I have been carrying around concern (worry really) that I will not write again.  It’s the usual thought.  Logically I know that others, real authors, experience the same feeling and that it’s not my unique experience. But emotionally I haven’t been able to dismiss it as false.  It has had me by the tail – until now, with this fresh thought. Continue reading Unlocking The Door

Midnight’s Another Day

It’s a significant day for me – made possible and joyous by a merciful God who got a hold of me and shook my life up with truth and love, good friends and family, and more than one hundred men and women who came together to be in service to one another.

So this year, twenty five years later, this song is rattling around in my head as a beautiful, bittersweet tribute to what difference a day, or a midnight can make.

Saying that I am humbled seems too light of a word.  Saying I am grateful never quite covers the joy.  So I turn, and pray that all of your midnights may be followed by another day of second chances and new expressions of God’s love.