Don’t play a TickTock, YouTube, or a movie.
Don’t listen to a podcast or music. Trust me, truly. 
Get away from the traffic, the hubbub, the prattle,
The neverending whining like a herd of seasick cattle.

Let the wind caress you with the sound of shushing trees,
And the far distant twitters of the birds up in the trees.
May nothing else but stillness meet you in this bliss,
Except for the peace that finds you and greets you with a kiss.

Autumn Spice

The crunch of leaves beneath her boots,
The whistling of the winds,
Pumpkins smiling on front porch steps,
And brightly clothed tree limbs.

The scent of sticky cinnamon rolls,
Of gingerbread and cider,
The road that begs the wanderer’s step,
The fire that warms and dries her.

What’s not to love of the changing season,
Hot summer to the crisp of fall,
What’s not to love about the autumn,
Why, nary a thing at all.

The Point

May your aim not be the food
Roasted, boiled, or stewed,
Nor reminiscing the miles, 
Nor yet each other’s smiles.

May your hearts and minds aim heavenward,
To God and His given word,
To the gracious life of Christ,
Gifted through Sacrifice.


You can’t always do your utmost,
Or eventually, you’ll crack,
And all the while you’ll miss
The things you never can get back.

For living happens in the stillness,
In the space between the cracks,
In those moments when you stop and be,
Instead of pushing to the max.

Lay down your bullet point agenda,
Every electronic device,
And listen to the world in motion;
Smell the cinnamon spice.

Don’t hurry to put on a movie
Or even to play a game.
Take a moment to be grateful
Free of any shame.

Do not be a frantic Martha,
Rushing to and fro.
Sit at the feet of Jesus.
Breathe and let it go.

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