Prayers

O, Spirit!

All creation sings Your praise,
And the trees and mountains are Your musicians.
They bellow the answer to Your whispers-
The rocks cry out the promptings of Your being.

With Your earth-chest You heave massive sighs of hurricane breath
And fill our lungs with the witness of Who You Are.



O, Jesus!

We remember You best with arms outstretched:
open wide - offering all of You
open wide - welcoming all of us

Your words are like water to our desert-souls:
"Come ye empty-handed! You need not a thing-
I only want you, and you only need Me."



O, Father!

For what You've done, we are Yours forever
But when we forget, help us remember
How You meet us on the road to lift our faces from our shame
And kiss them with Your laughter.

Forgive us when we hurt You,
And please, never stop welcoming us back into Your arms.

An announcement of sorts.

Hello blog friends,

How are you? Good? Great.

I wanted to let you know about something that I/we find real, real exciting.

If you didn't know, I've been writing songs with a handful of my best friends under the name of Branches.
We are getting to the final stages of production on our debut EP, which should be finished around the first of September,

BUT..

until then, we're excited to share a sneak-peak of what we're working on via our Myspace page (which you can find here!)

If you don't hate it, add us as a friend, spread the word, sing along, and if you'll be around L.A. the first week of September, buy a ticket for our show with Tyrone wells here.


YES.

1, 2, 3..

everything will be ok.

jump off the top bunk, because your dad will catch you -

he built that bunk bed,
and he is the strongest dad in the world..

he can clap really loud and catch fish and put you on his shoulders
and everyone else's dad is dumb.

and now back to our regularly scheduled program.

nighttime is best.

in summer clothes, feet tiptoe the cool cement, remembering its cracks through cooling blisters. and oh, the last drip-drop-sounds of cars rolling home through almost-wet summer air..

wet - like a swimming pool spread out in said summer air, thrown loose like a blanket for all the neighbors to share; to lay down in the grass-green hills behind our eyes.

no fences, no curfews, no tuesday morning alarm clocks looming.

if you breathe slow enough, you can taste the yester-moment laughter and watermelon communion on your tongue,

so let's all breathe slow. enough. please.

wonderful black-sky, wet-grass, watermelon-sweet moment of minute memory, half-certain and most-welcome,

you are best.


*picture taken from here