Author Archives: apronheadlilly

About apronheadlilly

wife and mother, musician, composer / poet, teacher, and observer of the world, flawed Christ-follower

My Voice Outstretched

For me, singing is like following a rainbow through black rain.It is like crepuscular rays that rupture leaden skies. Singing is like walking in an unmarked place, lost, not sure of prayer or path and seeing far off the pinpoint … Continue reading

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My Book of Uncommon Prayers: These Frail Threads

I don’t want to be naïve again, speech peppered with Praise the Lord’s and God Bless You’s, and other Christian slang, as if by filling in the blanks I could sanctify the moment. I meant well. There are elements I … Continue reading

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My Book of Uncommon Prayers: Death is Hard

Originally posted on A p r o n h e a d — Lilly:
Death is hard. Though so much a part of life, we never quite get used to it. Our youthful, anticipating days, dreams of El Dorado, meld…

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This silence . . .

Originally posted on A p r o n h e a d — Lilly:
9-22-12 This silence is not the fresh fingering of morning, the moment before the awakening. This silence is not the pure blank of night when only bugs…

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As if in a Dream

I look through my own grid, and I’m not sure how to see differently. I know just how you feel– well, not really. I can imagine walking in your shoes, but truth is I don’t. I can imagine feeling what … Continue reading

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Life Changes

Originally posted on Apronhead:
I have often said the loss of my first child changed my whole life— how I look at the world, how I look at comforters, how I look at God. My husband’s motorcycle accident and my…

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A Reminder

I cannot publish photographs here anymore. Met my quota! So just a reminder that my other site has my photography with my writings. http://www.apronheadlilly.wordpress.com

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Surrender

Surrender feels like failure. It feels depressing, like giving up. There is a darkness to it, a weight to it—the unwilling outmanned, outmaneuvered, surrounded, and pressed to defeat. Surrender feels like exhaustion. It feels compressing, like yielding up the last … Continue reading

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Whispers

Whispers thread through the flaming rage, almost lost, almost imperceptible, drowned out by opinion, history, frenzied fury, and flailing fists. The whispers tip toe in my tossing mind, seeking a place to land and be heard. They are the filaments … Continue reading

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A Limping Life

Originally posted on Apronhead:
I heard your whisper in the wind, and I leaned to listen; but my lisping voice rose rough and rasping, replaying all the shame moments, the named moments—over and over, owning their bite. I glimpsed your…

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