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Abraham's Advent Cover

Welcome to Rise Heart

Lindsey Gallant
Lindsey Gallant
Welcome! I write to remind myself to pay attention, to capture the small glories that surround me, and to add my own humble praise for all the love I’ve been given. I hail from Canada's Northwest Territories, but make my home on Prince Edward Island with my family.

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sacramentofsmall
The Prayer of the Boiling Dish Cloths Oh Lord and The Prayer of the Boiling Dish Cloths Oh Lord and Master Housekeeper, Soak me in your sudsy brine. Loosen the grease that saturates my fibres and prevents absorption of your solvent. Stir and boil, agitate, palpitate, Bend over the vapours till this stovetop baptism makes me clean. Then wring me, and fling me on the line, dripping pure and ready for service. #ordinaryprayer #prayerlife
Crystalline glow. #onesmallglory #eyesforglory #s Crystalline glow. #onesmallglory #eyesforglory #sacramentofsmall
A cat napping. I’m pretty sure this feline is li A cat napping. I’m pretty sure this feline is living out her purpose. #purposedrivenlifeforcats #onesmallglory #sacramentofsmall
The Glory of the January Rose I almost didn’t r The Glory of the January Rose I almost didn’t recognize you, 
dear rosebush,
 scraggly and spattered with the snowplow’s spray. 
I could see right through you to the white field beyond,
 your stems like a barbed wire window,
 your berries brown and puckered.
 Oh where is the sweetness of your glory? But if glory is creation pursuing its purpose,
 then even now you shine - 
 for you submit to the season’s stillness,
 preserving the life given
 by your very silence.
 You hold the seeds still,
 and you dare to wait,
 to take the form of barren thorns,
 knowing the roots of your beauty. 

 Yes, here is glory,
 Yes, I see your face 
here in January. #onesmallglory #sacramentofsmall
Joy to the world!! Joy to the world!!
The Weight of Glory: A Christmas Poem Heavy, with The Weight of Glory: A Christmas Poem Heavy, with child A woman carries a weight she can no longer bear The burden of ages The burgeoning longing of Abraham’s starry host The sands of time piled high with precarious hope – The wait of the world. All creation groans with her Labouring for deliverance through the overshadowed womb . . . The wait is over! The woman lifts the babe with birth-weakened arms The morning star has risen with glory in the highest. . . . Heavy, withholding not His will The man carries the wood He was born to bear The burden of ages The bursting flood of sin’s bloody hell The mud of many sons’ slinging – The weight of the world. Now the Creator groans Labouring for deliverance through the hole in His side . . . The weight is over! The man lifts His children with nail-strengthened arms The world has been reborn and we are raised to glory.
The smell of Christmas... The smell of Christmas...
Only a crow’s wing I saw you wave from the cres Only a crow’s wing I saw you wave from the crest of the hill, But it was only a crow’s wing. I heard you laugh when the brook ran past, But it was only water. I felt a power beyond me, A driving west gale with bullets of ice and I gasped with the bracing, bare trees - But it was only weather, wasn’t it?
This little stream greets me with the loveliest mu This little stream greets me with the loveliest music when I turn a corner of my morning walk. It must be glad to come out of the culvert and into the open sky. #sacramentofsmall #watermusic
Prayer for December's eve: Lord, Our hearts lon Prayer for December's eve: Lord, Our hearts long for your still, small presence. Come to us in waiting, in wondering, in wandering. Slip through the crowded days and into the mustard-seed shape of our hope. #advent #advent2021 #adventprayers
Small joys of the first Sunday of Advent. #adven Small joys of the first Sunday of Advent. #advent #advent2021 #adventhope #sacramentofsmall
I sat down to write about Advent, but this burst o I sat down to write about Advent, but this burst out instead. That’s the thing with Advent. Hope gives you a little nudge and your heart rips wide open. This piece is about the northern lights, and about missing home. But it’s also about the deep soul places longing to be filled. Advent gives us permission to live in the tension of our unfulfilled longings, while pointing toward their Source. (Photo credit: John McKinnon) I dreamt about you the night of the last solar flare. I knew others were staying up late, getting up early, searching the skies in hopes of their first glimpse of your magic. I was too tired to keep watch for the slim chance of reuniting with an old flame. While others chased elusive pale streaks in the southeast, I tucked in and slept snug. I had years of northern memories to satisfy. But did they, still? For I dreamt of you. You called me, and I simply walked out the door of my dream into your presence again. Your fire spread over the valley where the autumn moons rise full and golden. But there was no moon to compete with your beauty. You came in green, like an old friend, and I didn’t need to jump up and down or try to capture you in camera frame. I stood on the porch and knew you, in the deep place of being that grew with your touch through decades of winters past. And you grew in the sky until I all I could see was aurora. It was February, 2020 when I last saw the northern lights with my waking eyes. February, 2020, when the world seemed to spin a little straighter on its axis, when I flew across the country and thought it odd to see a few people at Toronto Pearson Airport in masks. It had been a long day of winter driving, straight north from Edmonton, with my sister at the wheel and her two little boys in the back seat. We needed to make the fifteen hour trip in one day in order to surprise my older sister the next morning on her 40th birthday. It was near 10:00 pm when we left Hay River, after stopping for gas and a bathroom break, and to buy a box of cinnamon buns at the Super A on the edge of town. With the time change, it already felt like 1:00 in the morning. [Link to full blog post in bio] #Advent #northernlights
“It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, “It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.” ― L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables #noticingnovember
After days and days of rain, this morning light se After days and days of rain, this morning light seems almost magical. #noticingnovember
In this season, I think the hardest thing for me t In this season, I think the hardest thing for me to let go of has been expectations. Especially of myself, as I've been walking through this concussion recovery process. The healing journey can be so unpredictable! Just when I think I know what I'm capable of, and how I envision the path accordingly, things change, and I am left scrambling to re-adjust. I'm the kind of person who likes to see the big picture, and who freaks out just a little when I can't! I am still learning how to let go of this ideal image, and my expectations of what I look like in it. But holding on too tightly ties me in up in feelings of frustration and failure. Letting go means I don't always see what's around the bend. I have to be patient with myself. The big picture remains elusive. But I'm learning to see small. And there's beauty there. Kindness, too. There's grace in the breaths of just this one day. And maybe I'm there too, small but real. And not alone. #lettinggo #concussionrecovery #noticingnovember #sacramentofsmall #grace
Slowly building my writer’s craft library. It wa Slowly building my writer’s craft library. It was @leslie.leyland.fields “Your Story Matters” that got the ball rolling on this! I have loved being part of her writing community. ❤️ #yourstorymatters
God, Let me be the bur, sticking on to your wool s God, Let me be the bur, sticking on to your wool sock. I am a legless seed, looking for the good soil. Take me with you on your narrow way, though night's needle eye, and out the other side of solstice. My spiny edges may yet be useful, if only for their desperate grip, for I have learned to love your feet. 
 #autumnprayers #noticingnovember #sacramentofsmall
A prayer for today: Lord, Give us grace to become A prayer for today: Lord, Give us grace to become like seeds, still, small, and trusting. Let brown be the colour of our confidence, for you wait out the winter with us. #sacramentofsmall #autumnprayers #trust
I am thankful for seeds. Small, brown, and unassum I am thankful for seeds. Small, brown, and unassuming. They know the secret of stillness. They know this is the time to settle into the dark and wait. Brown is the colour of their confidence. #noticingnovember #sacramentofsmall
Sometimes a slower pace isn’t something we choos Sometimes a slower pace isn’t something we choose - it’s a reality we are forced to live with. Today has been a slow day because my brain and body were quite adamant that it must be so. I am naturally frustrated by limitations - it means a change in plans, in productivity, in people’s expectations of me, and my expectations of myself. The “outfit” I had planned for the day no longer fits. I don’t like feeling limited. But just because I don’t like limitations doesn’t mean they are the enemy. I wonder if accepting limitations with grace is part of developing humility? And then I remember humility is one of the things Paul tells the church in Colossians to clothe themselves with. Along with patience. So maybe this wardrobe change is ok after all. #concussionrecovery #limitations #patience
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