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Continue reading →: Fresh Bread Always Wins
When you talk to people about food even the most hardened carb-o-phobe will talk wistfully of the smell of fresh bread. Fresh bread is so inviting, for its simplicity it feels gourmet. It nourishes us, forms the basis of the diet of so many, it evokes memories of favourite spreads…
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Continue reading →: Using the Largest Scoop
It might not seem the Bible is a place for maths lessons but here I am learning them. I’m what you might describe as a cheerful but inaccurate measurer. As much as the ‘experts’ will talk about the science and chemistry of baking and insist that things must be precise…
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Continue reading →: Why So Downcast Oh My Soul?
The Psalmist sings, Day and night my tears are my only food, as everyone keeps asking, “Where is your God?” 4 Sorrow floods my heart, when I remember leading the worshipers to your house. I can still hear them shout their joyful praises.…
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Continue reading →: Forgiveness
The house is bathed in angry voices as immediately-required forms for school have disappeared. The clock ticks and bell time comes fast. Angry voices find volume and speed and tears add to the disarray. Threats of missing out. Emotions scattering like whirlwind debris jarring off walls. School run done in…
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Continue reading →: Small Voices
A large black crow sits atop a conifer cawing. He will not be moved from his tree top position. He is big, he is powerful. A noisy miner rises, joined by others, calling, scolding on the defence. Something precious dwells in that tree. The crow remains. Briefly he opens wings…
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Continue reading →: Rest to Rise – lessons from the kitchen
Flour, water, yeast, oil, salt… mixing, kneading, resting. Nowadays we’re so often disconnected from the process of bread making, if we are allowed gluten at all. We buy it crusty from the markets, saggy from the supermarket or open the lid on a fancy machine that did it for us.…
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Continue reading →: Being Women
We sat and watched a nature documentary the other day pictures of elephants trekking miles across arid deserts, parched and desperate for water. At the head of the herd a woman, the matriarch, the oldest woman in the group and the voice over says, each matriarch encourages her herd onwards…
Hello,
I’m Miriam Jessie
Nau mai, haere mai (welcome) from Aotearoa/ New Zealand. I’m an educator, theologian, poet, textile artist, extrovert and lover of the Church. This is a space primarily for Christian poetry and blessing but also reflection. Want to use my work or know more? Please check in via a comment or email.
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a blog by Miriam Jessie Fisher 