Under September’s Canopy

Sometimes the quietest moments hold the most mercy.

Yesterday I sat beneath September’s drizzly canopy with Louie and Steiner, feeling the humid warmth soak into aching bones, and realizing even the smallest reprieves are gifts from His hand.

I sat outside beneath your drizzly, dour canopy,

midafternoon, comfortably nestled in the cessation,

the brief reprieve of September’s last shower.

The ground around the patio lay damp,

while leaves drifted lazily down,

tousled by autumn’s tempestuous,

fickle rhythm.

It was pleasant, an almost-fall day

in a Carolina locale.

I rested my weary, arthritic bones

in one of two chairs,

grateful for the humid heat as it soothed.

Beside me, my two faithful companions:

Louie V, my Shih Tzu prince,

and Steiner, the seasoned soul at my side.

My family held close,

all beneath His watchful eyes.

So many mercies slide through in moments of stillness,

the ones we notice

and the ones we miss.

What once seemed loathsome, the heat,

has become a blanket,

a gift to rest within,

to thaw this frozen tundra men call a heart,

that we might draw closer still

to You, in relationship and understanding.

And now, something tender to share: my newest book, The Headliner of Heaven: A Liturgy in Seven Movements, is complete. Much of it lives already on Medium, but within its pages are pieces you’ve never seen before, newly woven together.

If you’re a Kindle Unlimited reader, you can read it entirely free. If you’d like to support me more directly, it’s available in ebook and paperback as well. Either way, your feedback, your reviews, and your prayers mean more than I can ever say.

May every word in it lift eyes higher than mine and hearts closer to His.