When I start talking about meditation, contemplation and Centering Prayer; I feel like the preschoolers in this poem. I want these other words. Words which capture the curve of a vase, or a sunflower petal or my belly. Words which hit the target. The startling pink dot in the blue frill of the forget-me-not. Baked,
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Growing up in a home with evangelical influences  – this was an act with life and death consequences.  Giving my heart to Jesus was a kind of life insurance.  . .the kind I, as a child, could afford.  So there were a number of occasions, at night in bed, after being tucked in; when all
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