Rachel Holmes

You Knew

Lord, if You knew water’s roar and fire’s fury, If You knew the damage these troubles would bring, If You knew, dear Lord, then why did You stand? Watching long from a distance, knowing my plight? So much of my life, I simply don’t know. Your purpose,

Hannah

I stood there hollowing out the peppers. Tops off, seeds out, diced then in two. When you tore into the kitchen Shivers all full of glee They hadn't found you yet All tucked in here with me. And I thought that as I hollowed Out peppers for you and I

Expired

“You killed the Author of life, but God raised Him from the dead. And we are witnesses of this fact!” (Acts 3:15). It's Good Friday, and we’re soaked in the first part of this verse. The Writer Himself was killed, the very one who wrote the miracle of

He is.

Do you know what’s there, just like here? Deep cool breaths. Sunsets. Shifts in weather that are subtle, but course through you with quiet brilliance. Sunrise, and the hush right before, that makes you ache for the day, but long to linger in the half light. Birds. Flowers. Wind.

To Furnish a Heart

A parable about the invitation of kindness - to others, and to ourselves.

I Heard a Voice

I heard a voice. It spoke a word. Dark, then light, World leapt into being. I heard a voice Break the cedar, Bring the deer to birth, All His creation known...

Before the gods

Before all the other things that draw my heart — people’s opinions, financial security, the health of my children, the fruit of “my” work, I will thank You. They are the gods that I keep returning to; You are the God that holds my soul. These idols sing sweetly and

By the Washing of Water

How the tension and confusion must have seeped into the room as their Master took off His outer garment and knelt over the basin. Accustomed to His social rule breaking, but baffled nonetheless, they watched with raised eyebrows. One by one, He washed each of their feet. Did one or

The Battle is His

I hear it whispered, From person to person, “Today is the worst, That it’s ever been. How awful to be, The parent of child, Or leader of church, In days such as these. How much we pity Those coming after. How difficult their way Than what was before.” But

Just a sling and a stone

She looked at me in disbelief. “He hates God?” I have been reading snippets of a Bible story book to one of my kids, Hannah, and today we had a few minutes before dinner prep needed attention. Ater I stepped away, she continued to sit on the kitchen floor, dumbfounded

Not Yet but Already

“Mama, we’re in Christmas!” My two-year-old elatedly tells me this every other day or so. It’s the tree, another neighbor putting up their lights, or the doorbell ringing for another package being delivered. It’s Christmas. And the celebration, the joy, the expectation is palpable…even to us

Christmas

Deity Wrapped Delicate

Tiny face and little arms, A smooth sigh and folded lash, So little, so normal, So lovely, so known. But softly we came Awe settled deep in our hearts, As we saw the hope of mankind, Nestled in young mother’s arm. We thought we knew You A new born

motherhood

Dear New Mom...

I see you there, wondering about soothers and bottles and ounces of breastmilk. I see your cluttered home and the hospital bands strewn across your dresser, or still on your arm because you don’t remember what day it is.  I know the horror you feel when someone tells you

life

In the Image of God

“I look so old!” We were at the Sears photography studio in Kitchener and my grandma had just been given her portraits. We had been tasked with getting her passport pictures and my citizenship pictures taken. For my twelve-year-old self, this rare chance to have my grandma all to myself

poetry

Could

The “ought” was implied. The “should” was aloud. The “ought” laced the question, The “should,” no mere suggestion. The “ought” spoke of death. The “ought” dried up my soul. The “ought” spoken in “should” Drowned out all that “could.” Does my Lord long for slaves? Men and women obligated, afraid?

life

On Answering "Why" - A Writer's Manifesto

Dear Friends, Recently I joined a facebook writer’s group through Hope*Writers and one of the assignments placed on my desk was to write a manifesto. With everything going on around me, now did not seem like the time or space to do such a thing. But when I

poetry

Let me be

“Let me be,” She whispered soft and low. Her “no” only a tremor, But it tumbled weary, sore. Let me be When stretch marks widen, When hips soften, When these eyes have sunken in. Let me be, Just what I am and where As age and love Take their toll.

life

Just Ask

“Just go,” my husband said, as he lifted a ketchup and sand covered toddler out of her camp chair with one hand. The other hand held his coffee, and his unshaved face held a rueful smile. It was NOT a good time for me to leave. We both knew that.

poetry

She was heard

Rich and important people smiled Small the talk and subtle. Stunning wealth, and yet Opinion valued more than gold. Suddenly a hush pulled every eye To their courtyard door. A rabbi entered, His eyes both kind and strong. He was only a rabbi small His students shuffled round All just

worship

Broken to be poured out

They had all gathered, milling and sampling. Soon they would recline at the low table and share a meal. Rich and important men and women smiled and exchanged small talk when suddenly a hush pulled all their attention to the courtyard door.  A rabbi entered, but you could only tell

worship

A Parable of Time

I once visited a curious place. In this place were many people on a journey. Many didn’t know they were on a journey, but they were. There were old and young. They were small and great. They walked over a vast sweeping landscape with a winding path that formed

life

Just come to the table

I had a toddler at my feet and a baby in my belly. I had just quit a night job that we needed to make ends meet because I was too tired to take care of my little ones during the day. I knew exactly how much I had in

life

Holy, holy, holy

Photo by Mathilde Langevin on Unsplash The first full breath of spring filled my lungs. I stepped outside surprised and all at once surrounded by the glow of the midday sun on an oddly warm March day. I had come out to find out why one of the girls were

worship

Breakfast with Jesus

With a sigh and a sudden, “Let’s go fishing,” Peter stood up and headed out. The others looked at each other and shrugged, “Let’s go with him.” Out on the water, breathing the salt, swelling with the waves and wind, these men went back to what they had

worship

Confidence

Photo by Rod Long on Unsplash There was a googly eye in my sock this morning. Not on it, in it. How does that happen? I have no idea. And there’s the mysterious (occasional) disappearance of hand soap from the soap bottles. I found out just yesterday that it