Listen up, Busy.


Oh, Busy.

You clamor at me like golden gong winces in my ear.

Bang. Clang.

You chatter at me like squirrel stores away oak treasure.

Drop. Find.

You boast at me like new king proud in plush velvet robe.

Gone. Quick.

You pursue me like frothing lion clad in shadow.

Dark. Pounce.

You bait me like ganache dripping long with raspberries.

Bliss. Wink.

You serenade me like salt waves soft on moon soaked nights.

Sweet. Blur.

You overwhelm me like hurricane blows merciless.

Beat. Thrown.

Oh, but, Busy:

You are not so nectarous and alluring after all.

Oh, and this, too, Busy:

You are not so strong and forcible, either.

Oh, and one last thing, Busy:

The truth is I liked you once upon a time.


You rescued me when I walked wandering.

You blinded me when hurt arrived knocking.

You played me when I thought my good was your doing.

You tricked me when I thought my worth was your producing.

You lured me when I said false my family was not at your beckoning.



But the truth is not a lie, Busy.

This is Splitsville.

Day by day, thought by thought, moment by moment.

I will choose more than what you offer, Busy.

I’m choosing now what you tell me I’m missing.

And truth,

Truth brings freedom, Busy.

And the truth is:

I’m not gonna miss a thing.

Don’t waste your time on useless work, mere busywork… wake up from your sleep… make the most of every chance you get…

+Ephesians 5, The Message

Like her…


Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God… Luke 18

And she danced.

Brimming in sequins and joy.

Hands swaying about her head: singing off key and just perfectly all at the same time:

gilded in gold boots and heavenly peace.

Uncommon she is to me.

But I want to be like her.

The way she sparkles in her laughter when her very favorite song plays just for her:

The way she stomps her foot down for something she believes true:

The way she faithfully prays through her verses and lets them fill her up:

The way she chatters away about the sun and the woods and moon rising:

The way she gets hurt and says so aloud and finds comfort and picks herself up:

The way she bursts in happiness when she has been generous and giving and sacrificing:

The way she loves with purpose:

The way she asks a million questions and looks for answers and seeks them out until she knows:

The way she dances:

Unabashedly dances.




This life.

She is dancing.

I want to dance like her.

Shining with glitter and faith.


Today, for a little bit:

::::::::: just