• Carla

Little Things

Updated: May 13, 2021


I think Christians have at least one thing right:

God is, very much, alive.

I see Her handprints in the driveway

Rolled out like a red carpet when dear friends come to call;

A path prepared to announce that royalty has arrived.

I hear Her steady voice in the quiet hours

When I hold my baby, warm with fever;

Our hearts beating along to the sleepy march of hope.

I feel Her hand on my back

Supporting me long after my courage has dried up

And ghosts still haunt me in the desert.

She brings me down to Earth

When propeller thoughts threaten to carry me away;

I rest my tired heart in the cushion of Her embrace.

Her touch transforms the humble to Holy.

Her kiss turns the simple to extravagant.

She reminds us our cup will be ever full when surrounded by friends.

I am not sure about all this, of course.

I only offer that the sacred stirs when we open up

And love shines out through our eyes.


All of your limbs tuck neatly to fill my lap

Before your energy expands,

Catching up with the quiet.

In reverence, we sit together,

Both where we are and where we’ve been.

I relive it all now through our frosty window,

As your footfalls dance with the snow.

I marvel at your boots,

Big enough

To brave the unknown.


A spider met me

in the bathroom. We both agreed,

“Today will be great.”

A spider joined me

in the kitchen. We both agreed,

“The dishes can wait.”

A spider scared me

in the basement. We both agreed,

“Was not the best date.”

Sea Glass

Stoppers congregate along the shore,

Artifacts of effervescence.

Flasks lie emptied and opaque.

Discourse held amongst the

Moon and waves and time

Drags them out and

Back again—



Little Things


Love is eating French fries

Speeding down the freeway,


Perfectly in sync,

Joyful just being


Thank you for joining me. I am so glad you’re here!


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