Having been the pioneer of the 365 movement on the Emerald Isle (she declared modestly), I’ve decided to endeavour to inspire you to include something else in your small corner of the blogosphere…
New Year’s Eve – the day to pause and reflect on a year gone by. In this, the first full year of my blog, this is an attempt to draw a blogpicture of that year. I have selected one post from each month of the past year in My Small Corner for your reading pleasure (well, its always nice to have something mindless to read on New Year’s Day, right??)
January: the calm before and after the storm of a few difficult months: Precious
February: this poem – I am Right
Your arrogance makes me uncomfortable
Not just because it is wrong, but because I am right.
Your certainty that you’ve got it makes my blood boil
Like milk seething quietly then
Exploding
Bursting boils of white which rapidly run out of steam
Leaving behind the sticky, wrinkly skin of my own certitude.
March: a lighter interlude as Kicked by an Elephant decided to get Vomited over by a dead cow
April: I realised
Life is big,
And I don’t get it.
And I’m kind of tired of not getting it.
That’s a little sentence, but really its big.
Very big.
A bit like life
May: an entry flowing out of an April visit to France where I left another little piece of my heart
June: the nature of joy and sin
July: A conversation to remind me to keep praying:
242 Days
“Its been eight months,” he said.
“Eight months?” she replied. “Gosh, time flies.”
“Its 242 days, actually.”
242 days of life without his wife.I wonder how long it takes before you stop counting.
August: An interesting take on leading worship – sock-spinning…
September: The Credit Crunch – I wonder now that this economic downturn is continuing if these people realise flying cheaply to their second home is the least of their worries?!?
October: The monumental end of a Gilmore Girls era
November: Inspired by friends describing their lessons from living abroad: Thirst
When I listen to you live my throat feels dry
My lips crack and dry up,
Thirsty for water that breathes deeply
Into my longing.
…
Lifting the cup to my mouth I hesitate,
Pursed lips tentatively gasping,
Drawing you in like hot tea that might blister my tongue
Rendering all else tasteless.
…
But I’d rather drink you down
(with
– no fear of getting burnt –
reckless
gulping
drafts)
Drink you down to the depths
Of sweet Spirit, and of Truth
And of grace.
December: A flashback which comes to more sense in retrospect.
What about you…?
my small corner 