Beloved Friends- 

Until the beginning of September I will be stepping away from this blog space for a time of sabbath and renewal. During that time, I am offering some of my favorite poems to be solace and strength for our journeys.

I am so very grateful for the companionship we continue to develop in this expanding community of faith. Some of us are connected through face-to-face involvement through Trinity@316, Pop-Up Dinners, Mobile Food Pantry hosting and/or Toledo Streets monthly lunch making. Others are creating connection through our growing digital presence engaging Trinity@Home, participating in our on-line opportunities. And many, I am delighted to say are dipping in and out to all those ways of connecting on a regular basis. Who could have known two years ago that spreading God’s revolutionary love would be happening in all these ways? So, thank you, for offering yourselves and your hearts, your hands and your feet as we live out our Christian vocation as brave, tender, compassionate and humble disciples.

May God bless each of us with silence, rest, play, and the company of those we love in hopes of remembering and renewing our deepest joy.

And may you never forget that you are loved, 


Now I Become Myself.   (by May Sarton)

Now I become myself. It’s taken 
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people’s faces,
run madly, as if Time were there,
terribly old, crying a warning,
“Hurry, you will be dead before–“
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)

Now to stand still, to be here,
feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
is my hand; the shadow of a word
as thought shapes the shaper
falls heavy on the page, is heard.

All fuses now, falls into place
from wish to action, word to silence,
my work, my love, my time, my face
gathered into one intense
gesture of growing like a plant.

As slowly as the ripening fruit
fertile, detached, and always spent,
falls but does not exhaust the root,
so all the poem is, can give,
grows in me to become the song,
made so and rooted by love.

Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
all of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!

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