Your skin
Pressing comfort
As i feel your weight and warmth
Reminding me
Like a gentle pinch
That I am real
Reminding me
That you are real too
That you see me
And I see you.

Those who use others
For their own gain
Stealing their labor
As surely as stealing their house
For the ground on which you stand
Is sacred
And will not forever allow you
To desecrate its gentle soil
With your cruelty.

I do not miss
Ice cream cones or toys
Of childhood.
I do not long to curl
In my mother’s arms
Though I might
Miss that too.
I miss waking every morning
And immediately knowing
That today is sacred.


A new start… again

No matter how I titled this entry it felt cliché but its true. While my time at Whitworth is oddly coming to an end, at the same time its been like a new start for me.

I am so thankful for every friend that I have. Some friends have impacted me by their faithful consistency and companionship in my life. Others I see less often, but have greatly impacted me none-the-less. I think also to my friends in Uruguay, who I knew for less than a year but who still welcomed me so deeply into their lives. Each friendship has been an invaluable treasure. It also confirms and revives the conviction in me that I can also be a treasure and an encourager in the lives of others I come into contact with–even those I know for only a short time. Continue reading