November 01, 2013
That Wonted Place
The mornings roll together in sleepy familiarity.
The routine is consistent, the rhythm the same.
But this morning I heard a bird trill a familiar tune,
and suddenly I was back in that wonted place dear to my heart.
Swept up in the music, I sat on my old back porch with Your Words in hand.
I climbed up the apple tree just to check the nest.
I hid between the berry bushes and listened to a searching sister's voice.
And here, on this big brown couch, I remember -
Your eyes upon me are the same eyes,
Your voice within me the same voice,
Your goodness toward me to same goodness.
Two worlds apart, and many journeys between,
You are my constant custom.
And I am grateful.
Hi, friend. I'm Amy. Mostly, I’m just another twenty-something trying to figure out the stuff of life. I am a nerdy seminary student who loves the smell of old books and early mornings in the library. I am an artist wanabee, a liberal to the conservative and conservative to the liberal, guilty social justice groupie, and a recovering Bible know-it-all with the unreal ability to put my foot in my mouth an astonishing number of times each day. I am a sister to eight of the most hysterical creatures ever created. Good theology, used book stores, and autumn make me giddy. I preach passionately, think deeply, and ask too many questions. I write prayers, poetry and prose. I write about preaching bad and good, gender roles in the Church, the sacraments, stupid things we do on Sunday, politics, and almost everything else that you are not supposed to discuss in polite company. I also blog at oneyellowbird.blogspot.com. Welcome to the journey.
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