Spiritual Journey is hosted today by Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town.
There is so much that is frightening and appalling about our world today. I’m sure it was that way when Jesus walked to Gethsemane, a hopeless time, a time of hatred and fear. Every year when we spend time between Palm Sunday and Easter, I am pulled into the despair.
Tonight I will sing. I am an alto voice in our small church choir. With a strong soprano by my side, I am singing a duet “By the Mark.” It’s been ringing in my ears all week.
Ruth asked us to write about service. When Jesus lowered himself to the ground to wash his disciples’ feet, he showed them and us how humbling yourselves can be a powerful expression of pure love. How can we love like Jesus did?
I fall short every day. Isn’t that the point? If I didn’t fall short, I would not need to repent or be open to change. Today I open my hands in prayer, open my hands to God’s children, and lift up my voice to make a gentle gift of love.
I am yours, Lord, even when I’m tired. If the world dips into darkness, your light precedes me and I will follow.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Native blue flag iris planted along the Bayou Teche.
Good hands, what will you do with this new trust rising out of what looked like failure?
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
This weekend is the inaugural Iris Festival in New Iberia and Lafayette, Louisiana. The festival is celebrating the native blue flag iris that have been planted along the Bayou Teche in New Iberia and in Moncus Park in Lafayette. I’m learning more and more about the native plants in our area and how they are successful because they are planted where they belong.
Sitting with the Irises.
If you talk to any gardener, they say right spot, right time when it comes to blooming. Last week these lovely blues were not blooming. They looked like failure. Today they are thriving.
The Iris Festival is just another excuse to have a festival. Louisiana is a state of festivals. I sat at the Teche Project booth and talked to friends and passers by while layering jackets and even wrapping myself in a tie-dye table cloth. It was a chilly morning under the oaks.
Sitting in the sun to warm up and enjoy the wild irises, I felt gratitude for the weather, for the planters who trudged into the mud to plant these swamp-loving beauties, and to God for teaching me through nature that I must trust what may look like failure.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Leigh Anne Eck is rounding up the Spiritual Thursday posts today. She has asked us to write about her One Little Word, Strength.
I think of my father during the season of Lent. He would always try to take something on rather than give something up. He felt that by practicing his faith more fully during Lent, he would grow in strength. He was a reader and a thoughtful theologian.
I have joined my church’s Wednesday evening service and study group. We are reading Accidental Saints by Nadia Bolz-Weber. Some people in the group are having a hard time getting used to her language which can be profanity, yet that is one of the things that attracts me to her. She has spunk!
For Lent, Nadia is promoting the hashtag #40daysofgoodshit. When I used it on a few posts, I certainly got the attention of my friends. I am not one to curse, but one of my favorite sayings is “shit happens” because it’s so true.
So I am leaning in to the idea of noticing good stuff this Lent. A gallery of good shit:
Grandparents’ DayDancing with a paintbrushMaking crochet butterfliesNew trellis for my rose bushJeff holding SammyAzaleas in bloom
Kim Johnson is writing Cento poems during the March Slice of Life Challenge. Cento poems use lines from other poems. Here I am attempting to create a poem with lines from Accidental Saints.
You are Not “The Blessing”
Silence felt holy and grave I am defenseless So there I was Christ’s presence in the hungry being fed No one gets to play Jesus We experience Jesus When did we ever feed you, Lord? All we have is a promise that our needs are holy His kingdom is here
(Cento of words and phrases from Accidental Saints chapter 5)
This is the new logo for Spiritual Journey (First Thursday) With a background photo by Molly Hogan.
This is the first 2026 Spiritual Journey gathering. Add your links in the InLinkz at the end of this post.
If you are interested in joining our monthly blogging group, please let me know. If you’d like to host a month, I can send you a link to the Google sheet.
In January, I have noticed that my inbox is full of ways to make myself better in 2026. Challenges, projects, or whatever you call them, I am too often one to jump in and then drop off as the year goes on, especially once spring is here.
I like the practice of choosing a one little word to guide your year. I’ve chosen a word for years now. I even bought a little chalkboard on which to display my word and remind myself all year.
Last year my word was Still. I like how still reminds me to take time to be quiet, to listen, to be here now.
The words that seem to rise up to me tend to be words that encourage stillness and presence. As an Enneagram 4, my challenge is to not yearn for the past or daydream about the future, but to be present.
Last week I got an email from Georgia Heard that included a heart map. One section of the heart was labeled “A word to stand inside.” This section in my notebook says “Choose” then “Trust” then “Window”. I was liking the direction.
In retirement, I am freer to choose what I do with my time. I should trust myself to make good choices. And the view out of my window is quite nice. I could have chosen any of these words.
On Saturday, we had dinner at my daughter Maggie’s house. Maggie pulled out an oracle deck. She said, “We usually do it on Sunday, but since y’all are here, we’ll do it tonight.”
The word card I pulled was Simplicity with a photo of a Lily of the Valley flower. Apparently her kids get to choose again if they get a flower, but not the adults. My husband similarly chose a flower card and his and my messages were very similar, about being present to reality.
Maggie took a photo of the oracle page.
I am not settled on the word Simplicity. Today after a lovely session of lymphatic draining body work, I heard the word Sacred enter in. Sacred honors the here and now, the gift of meditation, and the quiet moments when I can notice God’s unending grace. Maybe this is a year to find a different word each month. What do you think?
Poetry Friday is gathered this week by Irene Latham at Live Your Poem.
Advent is here! Our priest announced last Sunday, “Happy New Year” because the Episcopal liturgical year begins with Advent. Jone inspired us to write about the Advent words- hope, peace, joy, and love.
For Spiritual Thursday, I offer an image poem for each word of advent.
If you are interested in joining the Spiritual Journey posts each month and hosting one month, fill in this Google sheet or send me an email.
For the first Poetry Friday each month, the Inklings do a challenge. This month Heidi asked us to write a letter to an article of clothing. Last year, I bought a cozy robe at the L.L. Bean store in Maine. The weather has turned dreary and cold here this week, so my robe is doing its job keeping me warm. I didn’t write a letter, though. I took an idea from fellow Inkling Molly Hogan to write a Wordle haiku with the three words I guessed today. If you haven’t done Thursday’s puzzle yet, you can come back later.
Blue plush peace fleece a strip of fake fur cuff Tulip in winter.
To see how other Inklings did the challenge, check out their posts.
Patricia Franz is gathering Spiritual Journey posts this week at her blog, Reverie.
When Patricia prompted us to write about doubt, a song started on repeat in my head. I sang the lyric, “drive the dark of doubt away” from “Ode to Joy.”
“Fill us with the light of day!”
If you know this hymn, I’ve now passed the earworm on to you. Sorry.
But as I contemplate doubt, I realize that it’s not dark. Without doubt, we wouldn’t have belief or clarity.
This first year of retirement has thrown a lot of doubt my way. What do I do now? Where is my purpose? What are my goals? Who am I if not a teacher?
All of these questions are necessary to get me to the next chapter of my life. They are normal and necessary.
I follow poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. She generously sends a poem each day. I used this poem to inspire my poem today.
Here I Pray
My doubt has fog in it, steam that glows on the bayou, and a sky above preparing for a new day.
There is Spanish moss here, swaying in soft breeze gathering space for doubt.
I meet myself in the mist, question her purpose, wonder where she will go now.
I am certain only of not knowing. I am comfortable in this doubt holding the gift of more time.
Spiritual Journey posts are being gathered by Kim Johnson at Common Threads.
It’s a God thing.
I started this day not knowing what I wanted to write about. Kim asked us to write about compassion. I waited for inspiration.
Nothing. So I went for a walk.
There was a soft rain shower, but I went anyway.
And then God did God’s thing: a double rainbow!
When I see a rainbow, I have a list of people I send it to.
Julie: Julie lost her daughter to drowning, and she feels her presence when she sees a rainbow. When I texted it to Julie, she said someone else had already told her and she had gone out to see it herself. She texted back her photos.
Wilson: Wilson lost Betty this summer. I walk by their house on my route, so I think about her and miss her every day. Wilson responded, “I needed this.”
Susan: She’s battling cancer and has had some rough news lately. I wanted her to know she was in my prayers.
Suzy: I’ve sent rainbow photos to Suzy for years. She lost two husbands. When her first husband died, we were teaching together. She told me that when she was trying to make a difficult decision, she felt that Steve sent her a rainbow to let her know she was OK. We may not talk as often now, but the rainbow exh
Shirley: Shirley had knee surgery a few weeks ago. The tip of the rainbow touched the roof of her house. She, too, responded that she needed it today.
Two Lisas: I meant to send the photo to Lisa D., but I accidentally sent it to Lisa R. It was fine because my message was “I hope you find peace today.” Lisa R. wrote, “Yesterday at healing service I prayed for a clean heart.”
Finally got it to Lisa D. who lost her husband early this year to cancer.
The double rainbow compassion gave me a way to reach out to friends in a loving way. May you find miracles around you, and a way to share them with others. It’s a God thing, making connections and being near each other in grief and pain.
Spiritual Journey First Thursday is being gathered by Leigh Anne Eck at A Day in the Life.
Leigh Anne asked us to write about family this month. Family is my priority always, but since retiring, I find myself dedicating more time to my children and grandchildren.
This week as my husband and I celebrate 43 years of marriage, I am caring for my grandchildren in New Orleans. My colleagues are going back to school and while I admit to feeling a pang of “I should be there”, I am grateful I am not. My mind and body are more relaxed, and I am able to devote energy to my family. What a blessing!
Next weekend we will all gather in Jackson, MS to celebrate my mother’s long life of 89 years. My mother, Dorothy Liles Gibson, was dedicated to family. She taught me the value of being fully present. I have selected this poem to read at her service: “Let the Last Thing Be Song.” My mother was a musician all her life. She taught piano lessons and got her masters in piano. She was a founding member of the Jackson Music Forum. She was also an active choir member at St. James Episcopal Church. I look forward to being with all of my children and grandchildren, siblings and their families, as well as friends and cousins. We will raise our voices to praise her life.
I am taking a poetry workshop with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. This week she used a model poem by Alberto Rios, “When Giving is All We Have” to talk about paradox in a poem. She gave us a prompt with a variety of anaphoric phrases. I chose prayer. “We pray because…” I’m sharing the draft of my poem.
When Prayer is all We Have
After Alberto Rios “When Giving is All We Have”
We pray because we are lost. We pray because we are found.
We pray because prayer changes us. We pray because prayer changes nothing.
We hold hands to pray. We kneel alone in the sand.
Prayers have many ways to begin: Our Father Dear Lord Ah, me I am here
Silence can be a prayer.
Prayers connect us to the dead. We are helpless in prayer.
What I do not have, I offer to prayer—an empty voice, a sigh of desperation. Does it matter who is listening?
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” John 14:27
When Ramona suggested that we write about “summering” for our Spiritual Journey posts this month, I turned to two passages that bring me peace. Too often, I have a long “to do” list for summer that usually includes cleaning out closets and such dreaded chores. These kinds of chores are good for me but are not what I want to do. I’d rather have lunch with friends, go on long walks, and binge watch a show or two.
The poem “Wild Geese” from Mary Oliver reminds me that all I should do is love what I love and let the wild geese call to me. On these early June days, it’s not wild geese, but buzzing cicadas that call to me. The heat of midday sends me inside for a glass of La Croix with ice. I am settling into a routine and trying hard not to pressure myself to do more.
In May, I was inspired by Georgia Heard’s calendar of prompts for small poems. In June, her newsletter held an invitation to porch poems. You can sign up to receive Heart Beats on her website. Porch poem #3 asked “What happens in stillness?” Here is my poem response.
Ruth had a suggestion for this first Thursday that ties to the season of Lent: write a Psalm of Lament. I have been laid up with Covid all week. It’s not a severe case, but it’s lingering and frustrating me with headaches and a lack of energy. I got outside for a walk this morning, and that has helped my disposition greatly. On my walk, my priest (who happens to live in my neighborhood) stopped her car and asked, “Are you off of school today?”
We talked, and she advised me to lean into this quiet time. To let God work in God’s time. Of course, that is good advice, but it’s not what I wanted to hear when I just want to be over it already. I pulled out a copy of the New Zealand Prayer Book and started to read the Psalms.
From the New Zealand Prayer Book
As I read, I realized the psalmists were just regular people living their regular lives and wanting more, wishing for God to redeem them, make their suffering worthwhile. When we read these old texts, we feel ourselves in those moments of stress, worry, ill health, and mourning. It’s a universal experience, lament.
Like my cats mew waiting for my footsteps, waiting for me to greet them, so do I long for you, God.
My illness clouds my thoughts, so I reach for your presence. I cry, “Where now is my God?”
I wait in hope as a desert rose thirsts for clean water. I open my ears to hear
the roar of wind breaking branches calling through tones of a wind chime in the tree.
I am the one whose branches are broken who sings a mournful tune.
You, O God, are my strength. You save me from the destructive wind. You hand me a cup of hot tea, a spoon of honey, sweet taste of life.
Why do I mourn when I have such gifts?
Wait, you say, wait in hope. Sit in stillness for You are here with me.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 