Always Remember
This printable is a simple message of comfort and hope. It offers an easy-to-personalize note of encouragement for someone struggling through a difficult time—physically, emotionally, or spiritually. It carries a clear message that no matter what, God will lift the team effort. When folded in thirds, this printable can be tucked into a plain letter size (#10) envelope.
Every Moment Matters
Deep grief, particularly from the loss of a spouse, can linger long. As a person moves from deep loss to a new sense of self, there can be long stretches that seem empty and without purpose. This poem offers hope by suggesting that every moment truly has purpose for a future that cannot be seen. The printable can be folded in thirds and personalized with a simple “Thinking of you. Every moment really does matter.”
Slow Joy
This poem, which appears in Sudden Nightfall, captures the slow return of hope and possibility, often after a difficult time physically, emotionally, or spiritually. When folded in thirds, this printable can be personalized to recognize and affirm someone’s resiliency and re-emergence with a simple “So happy to see new joy in you again.” The printable also can create a personal bookmark reminder or mini poster of joy slowly rising within each of us, reaching for the light.
Open Hearts
This poem appeared first in Serenity Prayers in 2013 and then in a slightly altered version in Sudden Nightfall in 2019. The opening lines list the actions done by many open-hearted people to convey a powerful two-fold message: that another is valued and capable. This printable can be folded in thirds, personalized with a specific message of thanks, and sent as a note of gratitude to a friend, colleague, family member—to anyone whose actions have mattered deeply in some way.
Resurrection
This birch wood art piece was intended initially as a Lenten meditation. I think it works as such but it can work as more. We are happy to offer it as a printable.
The large bark sheet came from the base of a very old beloved tree that graced the front of our house for decades. I kept the bark piece long after the tree was gone. When I stumbled upon the sheet of bark years later, it was starting to split.
One morning, I awakened slowly and began visualizing the split bark, wondering what it wanted to be as a piece of art. I saw an explosion of sorts coming out of the split and refined pieces moving skyward into birch bark constellations. This happened on a dark December morning at the end of 2020, and it felt like resurrection to me. (And in the great Resurrection, I imagine enormous power inside the tomb. I don't think a couple of shining angels alone scared those hardened Roman soldiers.)
Not all resurrections—physical, emotional, spiritual—are dramatic and explosive. But some are or could be. I think this piece expresses that power and that potential power.
Grow a Great Heart
I had been with an artist friend in her studio and in a few others that were open one week in early spring. We spent some time studying pieces using mixed media.
A few days later, I awoke imagining a red square canvas with textures. As I focused on it, a strip of white canvas seemed to emerge from behind the red and move over the square, in folds like ribbon candy. It was many weeks later, with advice from others, that I rendered the image in canvas and acrylic. When completed, the ribbon seemed to be a banner with a message, but I did not know what the message was.
In summer, I was on the sacred ground that surrounds our church and holds two columbaria. I was alone in my thoughts about those who had gone before and alone in my sadness over the recent death of one of Emmy’s close friends.
In the silence of that space, I felt a question rise in me for all of them. I asked what was the best preparation for death. And from within I felt the answer: “Grow a great heart.” Not just a good heart but a heart stretching and growing daily through compassionate expression in word and action.