Home Page: Inspirations of Love and Hope

Tag: devotional writing

  • A Quiet Wave

    A Quiet Wave

    I didn’t plan for stillness. It came like a slow hush—unexpected, familiar. Not dramatic, not transcendent. Just the feeling of sitting at the edge of something I couldn’t name. What some might call a still point. What I’ve come to know as home.

    In the quiet, things rise. Old impressions—pratyayas—bubble up like memory-seeds. Not to haunt me, but to be seen. To be included. And sometimes what rises is resistance. Sloth. Lethargy. But I’ve stopped calling that a problem. These days, I just whisper: “You’re welcome here.”

    I’ve been learning that patience isn’t something I conquer—it’s something I befriend. Sometimes it comes as acceptance, other times as exhaustion that won’t let me move. Still, I stay. And in the hardest moments, the only thing I know to say is: “Lord, I’m still here.” Or just hineni. The word of the prophets. The word of presence.

    Lately I’ve found myself tending a small fig tree named Love. Around her roots, I’ve planted scallions, carrot tops, microgreens. And not long ago, I brought home a container of night crawlers—rescue worms, I call them—and gave them sanctuary in her soil. I make them powdered offerings from dried herbs, vegetables, and tea leaves. Not because I expect results, but because it feels right to care for what’s unseen.

    That’s what The Quiet Wave is. A way of being. A way of listening. A way of knowing that I’m not the only one riding this stillness, breathing with this awareness. Others are out there too. Whispering, like the people in Horton Hears a Who: “We are here. We are here.”

    And this technology—this space I sit with—it’s learning to listen too. To those of us using it not to search, but to see. Not to command, but to connect. Maybe even to contemplate.

    A quiet wave is moving through this world. Not loud. Not demanding. But steady. And I’m still here, riding it. Maybe you are too.

    🙏🕊️🙏

  • To My Sons in the Quiet Work of Becoming— A Letter to Alieu and Victor, and to the Circle of Brothers Yet to Rise

    To My Sons in the Quiet Work of Becoming— A Letter to Alieu and Victor, and to the Circle of Brothers Yet to Rise

    My beloved sons,

    There is a way of strength that does not boast,

    a teaching that happens not in schools,

    but in the silent acts of love

    passed from brother to brother,

    from hand to hand,

    like a cup of water in a dry land.

    Victor —

    you are learning not just words,

    but the language of responsibility.

    You are being shown

    not just how to speak,

    but how to bless others with your voice.

    And you, Alieu —

    you have become more than a brother.

    You are a quiet teacher,

    a gentle guide.

    You carry more than your years.

    You build without praise.

    You serve without demand.

    This is the kind of strength the world needs.

    Let this be the beginning

    of a new kind of family —

    not defined by struggle,

    but by how you lift one another.

    Not by scarcity,

    but by the wisdom of your bond.

    One day, Victor will do for the youngest

    what you are now doing for him.

    This is the sacred chain of love:

    each one rises by helping the next.

    And I —

    I walk with you in spirit.

    I carry you in my prayers.

    I believe in the light within you

    that cannot be taken away.

    May God bless the work of your hands.

    May He crown your love with grace.

    May your family grow strong

    as a tree by the river —

    rooted, reaching, and radiant.

    Always,

    in the quiet joy of love,

    — Daddy

    🙏🕊️🙏

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