It seems the world is smoldering
in pretty poisonous lies
and my soul droops a little weary,
heavy with all I can’t trust.
So I made a list of what I can
and it lit me up inside
and grew my peace to see
just how much I can wildly believe.
I believe in seeds and sanctuary,
hot baths and cool breeze,
in seasons and stories
and music and farming
and angels and acorns
and options and dreams.
In starshine and moonglow
and coffee and compost
and Christmastime magic
and moms and dads
and the reckless mercy of a loving God.
I believe in pruning and dancing
and vineyards and wine,
in fresh plenty grace,
even when it feels like I’m sucking it
through a tiny thin straw,
and in slowing down and losing the rush
(which seems to stretch the straw wide again)
I believe in real hope
– that it’s just about stronger than anything,
and that false hope is strong too,
but without the power to change.
I believe in desert
and in beauty
….that it isn’t the same as pretty.
I believe we’re born with our art inside us,
that we come alive as we let it out
and that resting is stronger than striving,
that clotheslines make life smell better
and that there is truth that is brighter than day.
I believe in twinkle lights and naps
and rainy day rhythm,
in loving wildlife and killing mosquitoes
and that praise springs in vivid color and motion
from every growing thing,
whirling and twirling with wild affection
for a creator who is indescribably good.
I believe in the smell of baby skin and puppy breath,
fresh turned soil and pie in the oven,
that there is a peace that can override circumstances,
a love that never fails,
and that impossibles happen
and without fanfare.
And in you, dear friend.
And that we’ll be okay and thrive
no matter whatever.