Poetry bits: braille
I wish I could write
these words in braille
so you could feel
what I am saying
* I am working on a piece called "Machine" and this line came to me today. I wanted to share it.
Waiting to be moved
A couple weeks ago my oldest daughter, Bryleigh, turned 2. She had her first of two Peppa Pig parties to celebrate with her absolute favorite television personality. As every child should, Bry was showered with gifts from family. One of which was her first 'bike'; a purple (favorite color) Radio Flyer tricycle with a personalized license plate.
A couple days ago we were giving it a whirl on our front sidewalk. Tonya, my wife, tried to help her learn while holding our infant. It was not working, and at one point Tonya said:
"She doesn't really get it; the whole pushing and peddling! She just sits there waiting to be moved."
Immediately, my mind saw so many church-going believers. How many of us are attempting to use the Church to move us without trying to actually learn how to do this life of faith? Any given Sunday, about noon, I catch myself wondering whether my morning was worth it as I have not been moved. 
This life of faith is an intentional one. It is a life to strive for and apply each day. We will never learn or grow if we only sit waiting to be moved.