Pockets of delight

And when God had finished all of God’s work, mankind took charge. The wonders of creation were replaced by the assembly-line precision of resentful accuracy. Mindless hammer blows beat swords into plowshares, then back into swords, depending upon which was more fashionable at the time. And work never ceased, from one day to the next.

But there are pockets of delight to be found, moments and places of fellowship where one unique and beautiful human speaks to another, where worth is measured by kindness and where the sparkle in a loved one’s eyes is worth more than diamonds.



The letter arrived halfway through the week. On heavy cardstock, You know Im coming. Be ready.

I sighed and tucked it into my pocket. The reminder really hadn’t been necessary.


Nights like this

On clear nights like this, when the glimmers of tiny distant suns sparkle pristinely in the firmament above,
When the rotation of our orbiting world has brought forth the evening, and the heavens proclaim the glory of God,
On nights like this, when all the children of Abraham are represented upon a cloudless canvas,
And the moon is nearly overflowing with light,
The frozen sky would still feel lonely,
If I didn’t have you to share it with.


Winter white

Shabbat stopped in front of me when I was hurrying along the sidewalk. “Why the rush?” she asked, wrapping her thickly robed arms around me.

The wind was slicing though the wool and cotton that I wore in layers, but the fluffy softness of Shabbat’s wrap kept out every hint of winter. Shabbat’s fingertips glowed and were almost hot as she stroked them gently up my arm.

I fell asleep in a thick warm haze.