in the land of the living …

You might not know this about me, but I’ve got a lot of old scriptures rattling around in my head.

I was raised in a world where –for better or worse — the Bible was Law.  At the conservative private school I attended as a girl, I copied out long passages of scripture from memory, my girlish hand careful to pin down the exact placement of each comma and semicolon.  

Go on:  picture me now, a wide-eyed girl in a knee-length skirt and high-collared blouse, reciting whole chapters in front of the class.  Hear the lyrical lilt of the Psalms wearing rhythmic grooves into my psyche, the way the breakers wear grooves on the shore.

Decades have passed since then, and still — the Good Book is so deeply etched into the folds of my brain that its words often sound like my own thoughts.  

I couldn’t get rid of them now if I wanted to.


I don’t know why, but lately I keep circling back to a little snatch of words I’d all but forgotten:  I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living (Psalm 27:13).

The words are King David’s, but they might as well be mine.  

And I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 

In a different season, I might have seen that goodness as prosperity… Goals met. Accolades won. Or perhaps even some deep place of spiritual enlightenment

But now, I’m wondering if seeing the goodness of the Lord isn’t just a matter of noticing the dew on the clover:


The shadows playing on the sidewalk:


A sunset, washing gentle and gold over our Roanoke sky:


Maybe seeing the goodness of the Lord is a matter of faith: the simple, outrageous belief the smallest works of the Creator might be, in their way, holy… 

And I’ll tell you: this life is brief, but for now I’m here, and I believe that all this beauty is mine to see. 

And to share.

Here’s wishing you the same. ❀



    1. Thanks, Joseph… I’m traveling today, and thinking, and posting on the road. I’m so happy this one brightened your day. πŸ™‚

      Happy holiday weekend to you … Hope it’s a quiet and relaxing end to a stressful week.


          1. well sometimes I even use my psychic abilities to pluck things from the ethers. Welcome… πŸ™‚


  1. As always an uplifting post. And a timely one, too.
    Last night I discovered the death (allegedly murdered by her husband) of a lovely blogger who would make encouraging comments on my posts. Although we had never met in person, technology had enabled us to make that regular connection, and it came as a shock. The words we post, the words you post, mean something. In the land of the living . . .

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Andy, I meant to tell you the other day how very sad I was to hear about your blogger friend. There are just no words to respond to something so heartbreaking. And yes — I do understand. We develop small filaments of connection with even the most faraway people sometimes, and they do matter to us, often deeply.

      Thank you for sharing. Hugs. ❀

      Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you for sharing, Madhavi … I truly hope you enjoy this new community and all it has to offer. Be real, be you and just have fun … It’s honestly the best way to blog.

      Best wishes and thanks for stopping by! πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thank you so much for your words. They mean a lot to me. Really. It’s strange yet great to be supported and appreciated by a complete stranger. πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Isn’t that such a funny thing? I think we all enjoy being able to talk and share with folks who aren’t involved and can simply see who we are in the moment and respond to that … Enjoy! πŸ™‚


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