As summer ends and the earth prepares for the changes that autumn brings, my life and my writing are shifting, too. This will be my last blog post. With this decision, my heart holds a portion of melancholy- just the right amount of melancholy that inspires the depth of honesty that writing needs. I’m talking about the words that emerge from the pain and darkness and the dust-under-the-rug kind of places where it feels like the end but it’s really the beginning. I pray that one day I will be brave enough to write through discomfort, to tell more of my story- all of the striving and the tears ..read more

The path that leads to the shore is edged  by winterberries, bright red and prickly against the snow-covered branches of the Feverbush I wait for their leaves to turn- to grow weak and yellow, limp, and drop They come alive  after a cold and partial death  when their scarlet-orange burns through the grey sky ready to pick  A bunch is enough for a clear glass vase But after a week’s glory they pucker and shrivel into  a deep mahogany The post An Ode to the Feverbush appeared first on Wilderness like Eden ..read more

For every created thing there is a hand that touches it first.  Naturally, this is evidence of the God who sees. There is nothing I can enjoy here on earth that isn’t first designed in the mind of God.  When I look up at the night sky adorned with its fiery clusters of stars, I cannot fathom its breadth.  As I walk the forest floor, soft with damp autumn leaves underfoot, I cannot grasp how many millions of molecules make up each layer of soil.  And I ask myself, just how many billions of snowflakes need to fall during a blizzard to accumulate thirty centimetres of snow ov ..read more

On Easter weekend, Artur Pawlowski, a pastor from Calgary, filmed himself demanding police to get out of his church building. He shouted at them and called them “The Gestapo” and “Nazi psychopaths”. You can watch the video here. In response, I hope you’ll be able to understand where I’m coming from as I lay out a few thoughts about this event. Being Kind When We Disagree with Authorities Firstly, I will preface by saying that I do not agree with everything that the government and authorities are doing and saying in response to the COVID-19 “pandemic”. And I will not debate that here. I believ ..read more

Through partially opened curtains, a thin slice of morning light reveals a snowshoe hare in her winter-white coat. Hopping out of the woods, she stops to nibble on barren sprigs peeking out of the snow, wide-eyed and watching. And twitching her ears and nose, she quickly thumps back into her home in the hemlocks. Sometimes, there is profound beauty in brevity… Even in small moments lasting mere seconds. What a gift this is for my sleepy eyes and aching body- a gentle reminder that God’s mercies are new every morning.  The post Beauty in Brevity & Morning Mercies appeared first on Wil ..read more

It’s a cold January morning. I sit with my back to the woodstove as the heat of the fire bleeds into the small spaces of my spine.  The warmth eases the proverbial ache. I tilt my head to stretch the crook of my neck and see puffs of chimney smoke billow outside the frosted glass, veiling the red pines in a silver cloud.  Quickly, I’m reminded of the Israelite’s forty-year wandering in the wilderness. Did the pillar of cloud by day that Yahweh guided them with resemble the silver cloud outside my window? A misty, smoke-like fog, thick and twisting slowly through the air before them ..read more

I recently filmed the very last offering of autumn around our little house by the sea (if you’d like, you can watch it here). In the deep fall don’t you imagine the leaves think how comfortable it will be to touch the earth instead of the nothingness of air and the endless freshets of wind? And don’t you think the trees themselves, especially those with mossy, warm caves, begin to think of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep inside their bodies? And don’t you hear the goldenrod whispering goodbye, the everlasting being crowned with the first tuffets of snow? The pond vanishes ..read more

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day, Nothing gold can stay. Robert Frost The weather is shifting here in the Maritimes. The days are cooler. The scent of autumn drifts over the pines and reminds me that summer has taken its last breath. Tomato plants wilt. Sunflowers bow their heads. Daylight becomes shorter as nature prepares for dormancy. I, too, am ready for sleep when the temperature drops- wearing woolly socks and cocooned in a blanket. The gentl ..read more

God Of All Comfort There is a biblical antidote for the worried heart. His name is the Father of mercies and God of all comfort (2 Corinthians 1: 3-4). 25 “For this reason, I say to you, do not be worried about your life…” 26 “Look at the birds of the air…they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?” 27 “…Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin…” 31 “Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink ..read more

Mammoth Russian Sunflower / August 2020 Finding hope in dark times doesn’t have to be a complicated journey. Its rests in the sovereignty of God. Everything Is Made Beautiful In Its Time Each morning I rise and shuffle to the back window to check on my Mammoth Russian sunflower. How many inches has it grown since yesterday? June, July, and most of August pass and, at last, the sun pulls its heart-shaped leaves and its prickly stalk higher and higher until bright yellow petals unfurl and face the light. Patience is truly a virtue. Time is in God’s Hands Time. I cannot control the minutes or hou ..read more