Perchprints Now Dimples

I put the dishes in the drying rack and stand still to admire the snow falling out back. It's the kind that falls heavy like rain and stacks thick upon itself. A flutter in the corner of my eye is a bird flitting from the wire to the branch, flashing white stripes beneath his wings. Another flutter, this time a bright spatter of red against the white. It's a cardinal, majestically perching upon a wire. She flashes her red wings and swoops to another branch. I become aware there are a dozen birds, jumping from branch to branch, branch to rooftop, wire to branch.

Why do they keep moving around? Are they startled when a snowflake lands upon their tail feathers? Are they looking for their

Enter Rest

I set aside yesterday as a sabbath. Monday is a funny day to choose as a sabbath, I know. Despite my attempt to clear my schedule of everything, there were some inevitable tasks that had to get done. When my wife asks me if I have cleaned the shower yet, it's hard to say, "no, sorry hun, it's my sabbath today" as she's running out the door to work for us.

As it turned out, the content of my "sabbath" was not very different from any other Monday. Then what is a sabbath? It is a day in which the intentions of my heart are to rest in God, to listen to God, to celebrate God, to enjoy God. On a sabbath, I open my day to the Holy Spirit and say, "Here are some things I was thinking about doing, but it doesn't really matter what we do. I really just want to be with you. What next, God?" So I began with prayer* and then did everything else with the intent of

One Year

How quickly life changes. Most of the time it's before I know what to do, before I get there, before I say the right thing, before I understand it. I thought moments like this came at the peak of great crescendos, emotion building around a single, focused event until the beautiful resolve of a significant moment. This is far from reality. Instead, all moments, great and small, are shouting in the cacophony of the present. 

It was one year ago today that I got this call from my brother while I was sleeping. My sister-in-law is in labor. "Hold it," I tell myself. "Stop, slow down. Slow down this moment until I am there." Rachel and I raced from San Diego to Los Angeles. In the car, we found out our nephew was born. He came