Shaped By Design

He begins a tradition 

Gathers a date 

We meet to be quiet. A retreat. 

Mother and son. 

After the restless feet slow 

a book and a prayer and the sunshine warmth help to calm a busy mind 

We talk 

Of life and past journeys

Of lives that have shaped us to who we have become. Him still young and I his mum! 

I share the journey his grandfather took. The prayers at the bedside. The  open bible daily with the food he ate.  The faithful ordinary. The belief that spilled out into his girls . We observed it. The plain and the imperfections and the leaning life into truth. 

After my reflections,  after our talking and my musing long beyond the retreat,  it came to me, that people continue to shape who I am.  The precious influence of positivity and affirmation that speak and make me who I am this moment.

The friends who stay longest and pursue the grit and grind. That take the waves of grief with me and the pain of words that can suck you dry of life . 

Am being shaped still. 

The voices shout and a sensitive soul  trembling.

The voices that say keep going . 

The writing and the words that fly unto the page the conflicts that turn into something good and even reminds me of my true worth.

It all forms me into the woman whose identity and confidence continues to grow. To defy the whisper of failure and find a fresh new way. 

Find a best way. 

Know the thirst 

And …

Who quenches it

Pursue Him 


Alpha and Omega 

A to Z 

She’s still under the Designers Hand being shaped. Remoulded. Refined . 

So I went to the potter’s house, and sure enough, the potter was there, working away at his wheel. Whenever the pot the potter was working on turned out badly, as sometimes happens when you are working with clay, the potter would simply start over and use the same clay to make another pot. [Jeremiah 18]


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