July 31st

“Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning,
for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.” Psalm 143:8

now
in the silence of loneliness
as the world wobbles around us,
we offer our lives to you,
weary from too many doubts
wrinkled from fretting over fears
longing to remember those simple lessons
we learned from you so long ago,
that we might use them as quiet chants
to cradle us through the night
until
with a gentle nudge
and a breath of wonder,
that tenderness which knows no ending,
awakens us with grace streaming
through the slats of our hearts
and we can once again walk
in the Light of your yes.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 30th

"By awesome deeds you answer us with deliverance,
O God of our salvation;
you are the hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas." Psalm 65:5

while lightning wakes the cat
and thunder rattles our fears,
it is in the shawl of mercy
wrapped around our weariness
that hope tiptoes in.
not loud, not threatening,
but dew on parched dreams
or a sigh which finally
escapes our souls.
God of distant shores
and alleys too crowded
to hold our dreams,
wrap your grace around
all the havoc which weighs us down,
so that in that empty lobby of life,
in the valley of grief we wander,
your love is in each thin space—
unshaken, unchanging, unafraid—
inviting us to hope,
not so much in what might be
but in the One who came
and always comes,
one whisper of peace
one gentle touch
one quiet grace
at a time.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 29th

”But he answered them, “’You give them something to eat.’” Mark 6:37a

in the pantry, we whisper
as we count how many loaves
we do not have, rather than
noticing what is on the shelves,
but Jesus ignores what we lack
and notices what we have –
the aching hearts,
the sore hands,
the pockets full of grace
we thought we had already spent.
while we are huddled
praying for miracles,
he hands us baskets,
empty baskets –
but then, fear is broken,
hope is multiplied,
compassion takes human form
in hands that dare to give
when everything tells us
to hold tight to what we have
and we discover,
in the giving,
that we have more than
enough,
always
more than enough.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 3rd

“The snares of death encompassed me;
   the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me;
   I suffered distress and anguish.
Then I called on the name of the LORD:
   “O LORD, I pray, save my life!” Psalm 116:3-4

it isn’t as dramatic
as it is in movies—
just the thread of life
unraveling like a sweater
picked at by a bored child
when they think no one
is paying any attention.
and those pangs?
not like being wrapped
in dungeon’s chains,
but that vise which
slowly squeezes hope
out of us as we sit across
from the doctor.
and yet,
with that breath that was
lying there in the bottom
of our empty souls,
we can offer our
scattered, stumbling,
out-of-the-depths-honest
words which you gather up
and in response, offer grace
breaking in as swift as light
on creation’s very first morning.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 2nd

"You will not fear the terror of the night,
   or the arrow that flies by day,
or the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
   or the destruction that wastes at noonday.” Psalm 91:5-6

though the shadows of fear
seek to wrap around us
and the narcissist’s breath
longs to suck our souls,
we will not flinch—
for somewhere, there
in the pause between
the tick-tocks of time,
is that breath of God
gently singing out names.
when the rumor mongers
come sidling up next
to our peace like serpents
looking for warmth on cold nights,
we will not flinch—
for grace comes into our hearts,
setting up compassion’s camp,
making s’mores out of hope
and pieces of left-over bread.
though every moan of the wind
and creak in the middle hours
pull us out of our already
restless efforts to sleep,
we will not flinch—
for you gently spread
your wings of love over us
to keep us safe,
in every moment.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 1st

“To you, O LORD, I call;
    my rock, do not refuse to hear me,
for if you are silent to me,
    I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.” Psalm 28:1

we call,
and wonder if it sounds
like that silent breath
a leaf utters as it falls
gently to the ground.
we call,
because sometimes the
silent responses from others
feels like we are falling
into that sort of void
from which there is no return.
we call,
because you are like
that boulder sitting in the sun
which warms us as
the chill of forgetful friends
slowly seeps into us.
so now,
as the pit begins
to sing its siren call
of our names, hoping
to draw us closer to
the edge,
lean in just a bit and
whisper of your love,
which is all we need to hear.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman