I’m sputtering a bit. This is Little Girl me drinking from the garden hose, I’m almost drowning in a rush of water and only able to take a little in, breathless gulps, most of it washing over my face and wetting my hair and dampening my clothes.

This is my love, these words and ideas and the falling of them on me and I’m lapping them up as fast as I can. Snapping at the water-words as they fly through the air, and the game of catching the drops before they fall wasted on the sidewalk or the dandelions.

This is my study. This is me listening to new (old) things and processing new (old) things and making new (old) things come alive. This is my new wine in old wineskins, and I get that I might burst at the seams unless I can soften and expand and grow to hold it all.

New wine aged from ancient holy words, burning in me hot and mellow and thrilling at once.

This is me learning about sacramental living and holy ghost hosting and I’m shaking the water from my eyes as I drink as fast as I can.

This is my kitchen and my stove and my table … made beautiful in the new light of sacramentality.



I am a student for a while as I work through Preston Yancey‘s Sacramental Baking e-course, and it’s all coming back to me. The student thing, the learning thing, the reading and thinking and listening and oh my, I’m loving every minute of it.