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Yesterday it rained, gloriously fat splashy drops, and now, the finest globe style snow drifts ever so slowly down, down, down. In an hour, it will be sunny and wonderfully jarring, a typical spring hereabouts.
Again, I let a long time pass between these posts, so short on words am I. Writing is hard when I can’t hear what to say. So, I fill my time with the usual HGTV fare, movies, and books, searching for the perfect story and am mostly, sadly, underwhelmed. The best have been rather old, Stoner, by John Williams, not a pot head story, by the by, instead a vivid tale of an ordinary life. Some Tony Hillerman (definitely not all), with their watercolor renderings of idyllic Southwestern landscapes. Those leave me breathless, and I reread passages, devouring more-like, a harmless drug. Oh, the power of words.
Often my mind turns to darker places, and I let my heart rest a moment there before lifting a prayer for better days. Tulips and crocus are emerging and tree leaves budding and little joys everywhere I remember to look. Don’t ever forget to look, Colleen!
Alright, back soon….
Be still, my soul, and steadfast.
Earth and heaven both are still watching
though time is draining from the clock
and your walk, that was confident and quick,
has become slow.
So, be slow if you must, but let
the heart still play its true part.
Love still as once you loved, deeply
and without patience. Let God and the world
know you are grateful.
That the gift has been given.
I trust, and I recognize the beneficence of the power which we all worship as supreme- Order, Fate, the Great Spirit, Nature, God. I recognize this power in the sun that makes all things grow and keeps life afoot. I make a friend of this indefinable force…this is my religion of optimism.
Happy 114th Birthday, Aunt Mary!
Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is daily admission of one’s weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.