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Gratitude is a peculiar thing: often, it’s the very thing that we thought was a problem that we become most grateful. Likewise, that which we strive for, believing that it will somehow add value, often proves to be a curse. The reality is we rarely know what we actually want until we come face to face with an inescapable situation. In the event that we have worked to established a thing, one that does not prove to be what we really wanted, we suddenly wish for something else - usually something simple and more manageable.
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There lies in rhythm a hippocampus,
which relentlessly recalls the former. The past and present stand chiasmus; whispers of that which was. Seven seas and countless mountains circumvent the globe. Far stretched fields and highland hills clothed in grassy robes.
Snow topped peaks and hell bound pits give much to search and find, an artist’s stroke on every turn; His autograph there signed. There was something terribly wrong with that woman. I knew it from the moment I first laid eyes on her. Her complexion was opaque, and her eyes were glazed over. She was frail but perfectly competent. In fact, one might even wonder if her faculties weren’t far superior to the average human being. She appeared to look through you, as though to know your secret sins.
Long ago, one winter’s night,
there came about a mystic sight. In the midst of dark despair, a shining beacon, beyond compare. It spoke of hope and peace to all; all those who answer its fair call. Pointing toward a stable manger; housing Christ, the infant stranger. The luminous grace of that great star gave way to His forthcoming scar. And with the sound of life's first cry; that star above did surely die. Now each and every Christmas season lights are strung for one great reason. To remind us of that Holy night; when all our souls were made upright. All Rights Reserved. © 2018 Devin Peterson |
AuthorDL Peterson is a writer exploring the quiet intersections of faith, form, and the human soul. His work traces the sacred patterns hidden in ordinary life—where grace reshapes what striving never could. Drawing from theology, literature, and lived experience, he writes with a contemplative voice that invites readers to slow down, pay attention, and rediscover the presence of God woven through the everyday. Archives
August 2023
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