I Find Myself Walking In Gracious Circles

a devotional for returning

Welcome Back to The Wildroot Parables

Thank you for joining us!

Before we jump into today’s post, I have a bit of housekeeping I’d like to share with you all. (I promise that future posts won’t be nearly this wordy!)

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If you’ve been here on The Wildroot Parables for a little while, you’ll know that reinvention has been a key aspect of my writing in this space. I first started this newsletter back in February 2022 as an extension of a presence I had started on Instagram in which I mixed original poetry and spiritual thoughts with photography. It soon blossomed into a whole new beast of its own, but one that’s never quite landed on a consistent identity. I’ve tried different posting cadences, topics, formats. I’ve experimented, I’ve reinvented, I’ve tried to “find” myself.

Granted, some of this is a normal part of growth as a writer, but lately I’ve been realizing that a lot of it has been based on an unhealthy striving. Overcomplication. Comparison. Insecurities leading me in the wrong directions. A simple case of listening to the wrong voices in my own brain. (Can you relate?)

First of all: I want to thank every single reader who has stuck with me through these ups and downs, these long stretches of no posts, these constant announcements that I’m “trying something new” that never seem to go anywhere. You all have the patience of saints, and I can’t thank you enough.

I want to assure you that this post represents not a change or reinvention, but a return and a commitment.

After agonizing over this and picking the brains of some wise folk who have known my work for a long time, I’ve nailed down the things that I believe made The Wildroot Parables special when it first started, and to which I’d like to return.

So here’s my renewed commitment to you all:

• I intend to post on a weekly cadence with a devotional every Monday.

  • These devotionals will mostly feature my own original poetry, but may feature the credited work of other writers and poets depending on the topic, along with a short meditation.

• I plan to re-center with a renewed emphasis on both the natural world AND my own patchwork-quilt amateur spiritual studies into Celtic Christianity, mysticism, incarnational and seasonal living, and liturgy.

  • I have often struggled to express these topics because I don’t feel like an “expert” or that I have anything new to add to them. But I’ve been gently admonished by those wiser than me that expertise isn’t the goal. It’s shared experience. So that’s where I’ll be coming from, because it’s all I have to offer.

  • Learn more about my faith journey here!

• I will also return to some reader-interactivity and community building with space for prayer requests in the comment section, as well as my promise to be more involved in the replies (and a hope that you’ll all feel comfortable interacting with each other, too!)

  • The early days of The Wildroot Parables centered heavily on discussion, and while there are aspects of those days I miss, I found that coming up with discussion questions every week was a challenge. So I’d like to start with weekly prayer requests and see where we go from there!

I also want to state clearly: The Wildroot Parables is an open space for all. You do not have to be a Christian of any stripe or believe anything in particular to be here in this community with us or share requests for prayer.

Anyone who approaches this table with curiosity and compassion is welcome.

(For a more formal statement of this ethic and what it means practically while engaging in this space, see our Comment Guidelines.)

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All in all, to sum up: I love this newsletter. I love it for the refuge it has always been for me, even in the seasons when I didn’t know what to do with it. I’ve spent a lot of time overcomplicating it, but it’s still here, and so are YOU, and that means the world to me.

I hope and pray that we can continue to grow here together in simplicity, grace, community, and mutual encouragement. I pray that God would see our efforts to grow and bless them.

Thank you again for your patience and grace.

Blessings to all.

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And now, on to the devotional…

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Photo by Radik Sitdikov on Unsplash

I Find Myself Walking In Gracious Circles

I return— 
and realize anew 
that I am not the axis of this wheel:

I am the running edge, 
facing the void as it speeds past me.
I am the flying arrow, 
anchored to an invisible point. 

My only task is to turn
inward, to the center,
and hold tightly to the reins

of life. This supple creature
rising and falling under my hands. 

It transforms, kaleidoscopes,
in turns animal and in turns monster;
but I hold fast, faith-fingered

and eyes open. Cycles crave a
witness to their resurrection. 

As the wheel spins on its axis, 
remade, a mind renewed,   
I return—

There’s a passage by Thomas Merton that I have written in my psalter and that I come back to often. He writes,

“Only save me from myself. Save me from my own, private, poisonous urge to change everything, to act without reason, to move for movement’s sake, to unsettle everything You have ordained. Let me rest in Your will and be silent.”

This passage has been especially relevant lately. I’ve been learning (thank you, therapy) that I have a slight impulsive streak. Not dangerously so, but stubbornly so. When I get an idea in my head of something to do, to change, to modify, to transform my life—even in the tiniest way—it’s tough to convince me out of it. I simply must act on it, or face the discomfort of stillness.

But I am also learning that there is an important difference between holy and unholy movement.

When God has placed something in my heart that I know I am meant to do, it is vital that I do it. Scripture is full of examples of individuals given a mandate—to help those who cannot help themselves, to stand up against injustice, to repent of sin and step into grace—and when they don’t take the hint, they are admonished for their lack of holy movement. I can see examples of this in my own life as well.

But there’s unholy movement, too. It’s when I don’t know what to do, and my uncertainty leads me into panic, and panic leads me into unhealthy action. In my life, this usually looks like reaching for new things to add to my world. Shiny things. A new resource, a new routine, a new object, a new perspective. I get it into my head that the “new” thing will somehow save me, will make me feel better. It will interrupt the curse of sameness. It will appease my instinct for interruption.

This is not to say that there’s anything wrong with “the new” in its proper God-ordained time. There is real value in new information that leads me to change my mind, open my eyes, or soften my stubborn stance on things. New arrivals that upend my routine and reveal fresh insights. New ideas, new plans, new landscapes to feast my eyes on. These are good things and they have their place.

But so much of the time, what I need when I’m feeling stagnant or anxious or uncertain or afraid is not something new. It’s to return to what I already know. It’s to ground down deeper into the soil that nourishes and realize that so much of what’s happening in me—what Christians call sanctification—is not a journey forward, but an ever-deepening spiral. It is Teresa of Ávila’s interior castle, the labyrinth of faith that only has one solution: to move from the outside in.

When I feel Merton’s “poisonous urge” to unsettle everything, to flip the tables and start over, or add something new to my already-burdened soul, God patiently reminds me that I am not the axis of this wheel. I am merely riding on its edge, a passenger. All that is required of me is to hold fast as the wheel spins and keep my eyes fixed on Him.

Anything else will only leave me dizzy.

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Prayer Requests 🌿

How can this community be praying for you this week?

Feel free to share down below!

A few reminders:

• Please be aware that this post and this newsletter are public, so only share requests you feel comfortable being viewed by a wide audience. (If you have a more private request, you can feel free to DM me or respond via email.)

• Don’t be afraid to interact with one another, offering encouragement and support. This is how we show each other that we’re listening!

• Don’t have a request? That’s okay! Any and all thoughts about the devotional are welcome!

• For more detail about engaging here, see our Comment Guidelines.

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