Jessica L. Morris

When the pain has become comfort – like a soft, fluffly blanket on a cold winter’s night – then the abuser is just a tool in the victim’s plight – that miserable plight to remain in the dungeon of comfortable pain, safely tucked away from truth’s light.

For what can a man take credit? Even the muscles he strengthens through exercise were first provided by his Creator. Even the intelligence he hones through study was first formed in a brain built by God. Even the love he shares lives deep inside all souls originating in Spirit. For what can a man take…

What’s worse than discontent? Change – uncomfortable as it is, moves the chains; betrayal – as hurtful as it is, allows truth; death – as final as it is, brings peace. But discontent just sits – heavy, immovable, and alone – on a heart that really should be grateful – and points out all the…

Blessed is he now Who knows truth when he sees it. Now is all we have.

How is it that my whole being relaxes into a state of peace when confronted with the aroma of the honeysuckle? The honesuckle wasn’t made just for me… …or, was it?

I remember that day sitting under that enormous tree thinking about you like it was yesterday. I wonder why? No other day from so long ago remains in my mind. I never really thought you were that important to me. Maybe you never were – maybe it was that enormous tree – that tree that…

Who am I … really? always seeking always searching always striving for something just beyond my reach beyond my understanding beyond my ability … Who would I be if I stopped seeking searching striving and just allowed this day to wash over me? Now, that is a terrifying question.

My dad tended a garden that offered the best corn on the cob ever – knee-high by the 4th of July, he always used to say – but not until August could we gather at the picnic table under the apple tree to enjoy that salty and buttery corn on the cob for dinner. He…

Trudging up a monster hill muscles screaming lungs tightening mind cursing my aged body, a quick blast of deep majestic lilac wafts beneath my nose – suddenly transporting me to riding my bike swinging on swings running up our long stone driveway with a handful of purple softness to surprise my mom. Now at the…