waiting

A Mother’s Poem

Inside, you built me.
You pushed back walls, made more room for your own growing.
You demanded foundations, tested them with you concentrating feet.
You stretched up, making rafters of my ribs,
pushing into the tenderness under my heart.

Offering space at the table

I’ve got a brain full of hospitality today. All the bread scriptures in the last few weeks’ lectionary are probably part of it. As are the personal circumstances. We’ve been offered holiday space by a church friend with a house in France.