Blog Archive
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
- April 2010
- March 2010
- February 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
SIGN UP FOR TERRY’S Sabbath Moment and NEWSLETTER:
You will receive a weekly reflection and occasional updates on Terry's schedule and our latest resources!Privacy is assured. moreUpcoming Events
- Interfaith Council of South Orange County
- 18 May
- Laguna Hills, CA
- Through the Garden Gate
- 26 May
- Vashon, WA 98070
- Piedmont Community Church
- 17 Jun
- Piedmont, California 94611
- Franciscan Center
- 6 Jul
- Tampa, FL
Followers
Portugal Storm
Note from Terry…
You never know when you'll find the opportunity to pause... and the space for gratitude, wonder, sanctuary, renewal, balance and delight. So be on the lookout... every day.Sabbath Moment
"I love your Sabbath Moment emails... they refresh me, make me laugh, bring me peace and centeredness every time."P.F., Mesa, AZStay Connected
-
About Terry
Vashon Island,
Seattle, Washington
Terry Hershey is an author, humorist, inspirational speaker, dad, ordained minister, golf addict, and smitten by French wine. He divides his time between designing sanctuary gardens and sharing his practice of “pausing” and “sanctuary,” to help us do less and live more... read more
>
Unrelenting waves pummel
a duned and wind swept beach,
its sand, the color of soft caramel.
Tonight the sea is filled with fury
or passion
its waves insistent and emphatic.
Are they incantation or declaration,
or lament?
I do not know.
Save that the surf
is comforting in its faithful constancy.
It is why I drink in this night
and pay homage.
Because there are times when we too
need to rage against the night,
but must live vicariously through
the strength of something bigger than ourselves,
on nights like these,
when our very breath is prayer
and the sound of the wind is our song.
(Written while standing near a beach on the Atlantic Ocean in the Portuguese village of Fao.)