Learning to Feast with Him

Scene from Babette's Feast (movie on lavish grace)


Too many ideas.

Not enough time.

Want to go far & wide. 


Two little girls & a husband.

Life in Bellingham. 

It's real, dirty, present & sacred. 


This space.

Behind a screen.

Unknown by many.

Paddling to catch the current.

My voice is lost.


My soul aches for more.

I desire to be known.  I fight the urge.

My voice is enough for you.


This, this space is for you. 

I share my story for you.

I share my story to speak your goodness.

I share my story to remind myself of new mercies in the morning.


My voice gets lost with the crashing of waves, as my sandcastle vision gets swept away with the tide. 


It is you my Lord, my God, who satisfies with choicest of food.  You prepare a feast in my honor.  You delight in me.  There is fine wine in abundance at the table & my cup overflows with blessing.  Slow, simmered braised meat, once was tough.  Your tender love has seasoned it as my fork glides right through.

You are like the great chef taking care of every detail to pour out your grace through this feasting meal.  Stewed tomatoes, herbs, sea salt, freshly cracked pepper, meat, red wine, a mirepoix cut ever so methodically.  You pay attention to intricacies of this meal.  You not only serve as chef; but as host, ensuring that my welcome to your table is warm, inviting, & lovely.

I never feel the need to measure up.  I don't need to find my voice at your table.  You defend my cause.  You allow me to speak freely without interruption or worry of concern.  You, my Jesus, have made room in your life for me.  You, my saving King, have invited this "no name" in the blogosphere to sup at your table. 

Your table.  Your feast.  It has humbled me. 


A Year Ago: Rhubarb Sandwich Cookies with Strawberry Cream Cheese Frosting