Morning Prayer

THROUGH the tender mercy of our God 
the dayspring from on high hath visited us.

Glory be to Thee, O Lord, glory to Thee,

Creator of the light, Enlightener of the world.
God is the Lord, Who hath shewed us light :
bind the sacrifice with cords,
even unto the horns of the altar.
Glory be to Thee for the visible light :
the sun's radiance, the flame of fire ;
day and night, evening and morning ;
for the light invisible and intellectual :
that which may be known of God,
that which is written in the law,
oracles of prophets,
melody of psalms,
instruction of proverbs,
experience of histories
a light which never sets.

By Thy resurrection raise us up
unto newness of life,
supplying to us frames of repentance.
The God of peace, that brought again from the dead
our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep,
through the blood of the everlasting covenant,
make us perfect in every good work to do His will,
working in us that which is well pleasing in His sight,
through Jesus Christ; to Whom be glory for ever and ever.


Lancelot Andrews, Morning Prayer


From A Sunlit Room

It is short, unpolished
Like a child's first, faltering steps
But truly, honestly,
I hope it brings
A smile.

You both have spent
A tiring week, and feel stretched
"Like butter over
Too much bread."

And so, from this bright and sunlit room
I wish and hope
The Light of these thoughts
To be with you.

The smell of fresh lavender
And warmth of the gentle sun
The calm of a new morning
and hope of the risen Son.

I'd call or bring you a Starbucks
For at least a moment's worth of companionship
Yet fettered as I am by
Distance, time, and illness
I cannot offer more than this.

A prayer for rest - body and spirit
Offered in love for you, my friends.


Lamott On Writing and Books

On Writing

Writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up grow and belong.

As a writer [...] hope begins in the the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.

I just try to warn people who hope to get published that publication is not all that it is craked up to be. But writing is. Writins has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises. That thing you had to force yourself to do - the actual act of writing - turns out to be the best part. [...] The act of writing turns out to be its own reward.
On Books

For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What amiracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we arer and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.

Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird



Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away...

We didn't fly, but we did next best thing - we rode our bikes. It was a beautiful day, just a little above 70 degrees, clear blue skies, with a breeze that made our hair fly around our faces. We went all over town. Down to Barnes and Noble, to the library, Starbucks, and then home again. I sang Sinatra out loud. It was a perfect day.

The Starbucks barista smiled and asked us, "Are you twins?"

Holding our Izze drinks, we looked at each other.
"Um. No. Three and a half years apart."

"How old are you?"

We turned the question back on her, "How old do you think we are?"

"You look like twelve year-old twins!"

We couldn't help collapsing in laughter. We told her our ages - seventeen and fourteen. We kept on laughing as we purchased our drinks and walked into B&N. I'm not sure if she believed us.

On our way out, Jacqueline nudged me, "At least I'm only two years off..."

Weather-wise it was such a lovely day
Come fly with me, we'll fly, we'll fly away.


From the Photo Library

She said to post the sixth photo from my sixth folder. Oh, the memories.

And because my siblings were (still are!) so cute, here's another one from the same folder.

We were dressing up for a rendition of The Three Little Pigs... and their brother.


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