The Ache of Missing

I feel the downward pull,
the pout brewing,
the demands building,
wanting to hang onto
what was never mine.

I watch as this happens.
How I let go and let go
only to want to grasp again
in selfish greed
that would wound us all.

Grant me strength
to stay with the ache of missing.
Grant me the trust of a small child
to bow to your will and way
in this season of separation.

Remind me, that although there is pain
in each surrender,
it is this emptying
that makes room
for your gifts
and for you.


Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast,
it is not proud. It does not dishonor others,
it is not self-seeking.
I Corinthians 13:4-7

From Heaven at my Door by Juanita Ryan

First Thanks

For early morning light coming in sideways,
waking day lilies,
for neon-blue-breasted hummingbird,
feeding on golden hibiscus,
for towering maple,
laden with summer’s deep green foliage,
thank you.

For breezes playing wind chimes and cooling skin,
for violin concerto
in the flight of the fly,
for quiet delighting with you
at the start of this new day,
thank you.


Delight yourself in the Lord.
Psalm 37:4

From Heaven at my Door by Juanita Ryan