my feet are cool on the earth. my knees are lost in the sea of green. my hands glean the wind. my heart warmed in the light, singing. and the rain comes.
the one who fashioned me from the earth on which i stand, covers me with his wing. soft upon my shoulder, warm upon my face. i tuck a feather beneath my sleeve.

"A smile will fade
A warm hug will cool
A loving embrace will end
And a happy heart sad again

A toy will break
A new garment will wither
A quenched mouth will thirst
And a full stomach hungry again

A friend will leave
A listening ear will vanish
A kind word will be lost
And memories long forgotten

But the love of the Lord lasts forever ."

- John Dickinson August 07'

...my favorite poem. written by my brother to encourage me after my overwhelming mission trip to Namibia in the summer of 2007.

"when i was thirty, i remember feeling SO old. now that over i'm fifty. ..i feel...young."

i looked up to see a young boys eyes looking out through a man's frame. his crooked smile beaming from an inner brightness lifted a shadow weighing on my chest.

things change when love walks through the door.
there is a brightness to every moment.
heavy eyes open wide with ease.
worries hide away.
wounds heal..so well that you forget they ever caused much pain.
trees dance even if the air is still.
there is a calmness over everything.
things change
when love
walks through the door.

torn

the blackness is pierced
with a sharp cool tingling blade of light.
how long the seam has been resisting the tear!
each thread clung desperately to the last.
how much would have been seen.. .
how many spared were it torn a moment earlier!
but it was not so.
it would never have been so.
it may never be so.
i step outside.
beyond the tear.
i never knew it was dark
nor that the darkness blinded me.
i see for the first time.
hardly knowing what my eyes take in.

chicken and worm.

first page of my first children's book .

sore life.

my left ankle gives out unless i wrap it. the wrap gives me a charlie horse in my foot. sometimes i wear it and brave the cramp. sometimes i leave it and brave the sprain. the palm of my right foot is always sore.

but i still run. not as fast or far as i once could... not as fast or far as i thought i once would.

but i still run.