Tag Archives: Psalms

RAINDROPS KEEP FALLIN’

“Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head…”

It has been a weekend of dark, dreary and rainy days. Yet, our big, old bag of wind Florence only brought us a few gusts of wind and about 6 inches according to our rain gauges. Then again, since some of those gusts have kind of blown the rain sideways, some of the rain might have missed those gauges entirely.

Hard to feel excited on dreary days. ‘Blue days’ as my mom used to call them. Got to admit, I’ve wasted most of the past couple days. Could have pulled out the crochet needles – could have read more of my books – could have gone on more walks (between the raindrops) – – – could have done a lot of things.

I just didn’t.

I did do several cryptograms, jigsaw puzzles, on-line word games, baked cookies, read some devotions on-line and off, watched several of my favorite ministers, made a big batch of spaghetti, watched some of my favorite movies, and kinda meandered here there, doing miscellaneous chores that I wanted to accomplish just in case the electric went out. But all-in-all – – – nada, zilch, nothing that contributed anything to anyone – anywhere.

“But there’s one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me
Won’t defeat me
It won’t be long ’till happiness steps up to greet me…”~”Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head”

I really don’t like looking back over my weekend and seeing how much time so easily slipped past me. I did, indeed, let the “blues defeat me”. However, God is good. He opened the eyes of my heart today. I walked the dogs and really listened as I avoided the worst of the slippery red, clay. After all that is what the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is all about. Holy Days. 
Time to reflect, 
to repent, 
to listen, and… 
to change.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you with my eye upon you….”~Ps 32:8

Those raindrops keep falling tonight, and I think we have added another inch just since I started writing. Flood and tornado watches are up. The dogs stick their heads out the door and give Spooky-Shadow-Sparkle a dirty look because no one makes her go outside in the rain. So – I think it is time to stretch my knees and start to make my way back to my quiet room. Read a book, listen to some harp music and plan the many things I want to accomplish tomorrow. The Grands are coming for the morning, so lets start there.

“Be glad in the LORD, and rejoice, O righteous,
and shout for joy, all you upright in heart!”~Ps 32:11

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DORIS DAY NIGHTS

It’s a Doris Day movie kind of night. Wind has picked up. Rain has kicked in. Satellite has kicked out more times than I can count on one hand. Soooooo….

Movie night….Doris Day movies…and clam dip kind of night.

There is just something about Doris Day comedies, musicals and even her dramas that lightens my mood. 
It Happened to Jane”
Pillow Talk
Pajama Game
Please Don’t Eat the Daisies 
Love Me or Leave Me
April in Paris
Do I need to name more?  There are definitely more, but there are very few – if any – that I haven’t seen and watched several times. I do have my favorites, but generally, I love the older movies when I really want to forget the world and all the things that it brings with it on these kind of days.

I smile. I laugh. I cry. I praise Our Father for reminding me of all the joy that can surround us even on the darkest nights..

“…what is mankind that you are mindful of them – human beings that you care for them?”~Ps 8:4

The past two days have been stay-at-home-days, and I probably won’t leave the homestead for another two. There is something that calls to me to stay put when storms swirl about me and my home. Something that calls me to gather some flowers from the garden for that old, bag of wind Florence before she gets here.

Besides, I like re-assuring the pets and receiving their wiggles and cuddles in return. 

I like walking the yard and neighborhood as the winds, rain (or snow in some storms) buffer my cheeks. 

I like checking on plants, picking some out of the water, and as I go, lifting and carrying bigger sticks that litter my path back to the wood pile. 

While watching my trees bend and – sometimes – break is not something I like to watch, but it is something I need to see. My banana tree has definitely not been happy today, and I keep touching it when I walk outside as if to re-assure it that “This too shall pass”, and  that “all the tears in its leaves will only make it stronger”.

“You made them rulers over the works of your hands; you put everything under their feet: all flocks and herds, and the animals of the wild, the birds in the sky, and the fish in the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas.”~Ps 8:6-8

It is hard not to be attached to things in this world. After all, Our Father created a garden for us to live in, and even though we are locked out of the original garden, we still have remnants of it in this world. Our world may be a little harsher – a little more crazy – a lot more dense with sin – and yet – it is the world that He created just for us. 
To love…
To watch over…
To nurture…
To tend…
To clean up when needed…
And evenually – – –
To give back to Him…
With all praise and honor and glory …

“Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!”~Ps 8:9 

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ANTICIPATION DAYS

Ya know how you wait and you wait and you wait for special days? Anticipation takes over almost every waiting minute? Lists of things to accomplish before the event occurs? While the pit of your stomach aches just to go to sleep, so you can wake up before it arrives and get more done?

That’s what it has been like in NC this week.

Switching between the weather channel and local news. Walking outside to recheck what might need to be stashed or tied down or chucked in the trash. Checking on friends living close to the coast. Answering notes of messages of concern from friends in other states. Checking on older neighbors. Praying for, not just our coast, but all the other coasts, states and countries that are battling their own natural disasters.
The workers that stand in the gap.
The uncertainty.
The loss of stuff.
The worry.
The prayer.

‘We make this plea, not because we deserve help, but because of your mercy. O Lord, hear. O Lord, forgive. O Lord, listen and act!”~Dan 9:18b-19a

As always – knowing me well and my constant need for reassurance – my many devotions centered on the power of prayer and a merciful and loving Father who not only hears but anticipates our every need – even before we voice it. Oh but He loves to hear our voices cry out to Him, so He waits. Like us – whom He created in His own image – 
waiting – 
anticipating – 
loving – 
completely knowing us to depths of ourselves that even we don’t know.

These are the nights and the days of anticipation. The days of the shofar. Jewish tradition says that every night when sleep comes, the souls rise to heaven and record what they did that day in a book- the real good, the good, the bad, the ugly bad – and then attest to it with their signature.

A part of me likes this idea. Being accountable for my actions was drilled into me over and over as I grew up. Recording them while they are still fresh with joy or heavy with dread – in my soul seems like good parenting. Signing my name in full to the real good, the good, the bad, the ugly bad helps me face what I have done with my day. But in my mind I see something more – something so full of love that my breath catches in anticipation.

When the shofar blows at sunrise, I see a cross stamped – – – completely blotting out my deeds and signature. My tear-filled eyes blink to see His nailed-scared hand holding mine, easing the eternal back into the temporal. Our eyes meet in that silver cord second, and His smile remains within me for the rest of the day. His song singing in my soul as the sun rises above the horizon, and I swing my feet over the side of the bed to start anew.

I am fully known, fully forgiven and fully loved..

“Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.”~Ps 32:1a

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17 YEARS

For 17 years, I have worn this one shirt. It is a simple white shirt with an American flag, a bald eagle, the date, 9/11/2001 and one word written in red: UNITED.

Shortly after the attack, one of the teachers I worked with created this shirt for the staff. We wore it quite often that first year, but for the most of the past 17 years, it has just sat in my drawer and waits for that date to arrive.

“Remember your people, whom you chose for yourself long ago, whom you brought out of slavery to be your own tribe. Remember Mount Zion, where once you lived.”~Ps 74:2

We don’t forget where we were on days that change our lives. A father’s first heart attack – or second – or third. The death of JFK – of MLK – of RFK. Graduations. Watching a man walk on the moon. Resignation of a President. First loves – last loves. Death of a parent…parents. Birth of a child – from the heart or from the body……… 9-11-2001.

And somehow – in all of images that superimpose themselves one on top of another – I think of the Bible. If my finite, limited, mortal body puts such emphasis on memorable days, would not a loving Father do this as well – especially since He created us in His own image?

God’s memories of a stiff-necked, stubborn people – one group out of many that walked this earth – written then simplified enough for us to read, speaking in glorious metaphors of his love through each superimposed image – one on top of another. From one fateful decision by one couple under a tree, to a Son choosing to lay down His life on another tree, to the gates of the garden of trees being unlocked, and the return of our King on a white horse to throw those gates wide open.

“I’ve walked among the shadows
You wiped my tears away
And I’ve felt the pain of heartbreak
And I’ve seen the brighter days
And I’ve prayed prayers to heaven from my lowest place
And I have held the blessings
God, you give and take away”

The hills and valleys of this life frame our journey. We mark our time by them and – hopefully – grow in wisdom and thankfulness to the One who carved them both. Journeys are never easy. Our emotions rage from one extreme to another. And yet – the blessings of hidden bread and water await us at just the right moments – at just the precise time we need nourishment – at the perfect place in the journey so that we can continue forward.

“No matter what I have, Your grace is enough
No matter where I am, I’m standing in Your love.”

There is a song, that my youngest son drew my attention to a few months back. He may be many miles away, and we may not speak often, but he knows his mama’s heart so well. So today as I prepared a little more for that old, bag of wind Florence to hit town, I heard this song twice. It especially spoke to my heart on a day when bittersweet memories were stuck in a repetitive play, and I felt Our Father’s presence so close that I had to pray no matter where I was.

“On the mountains, I will bow my life
To the one who set me there (to the one who set me there)
In the valley, I will lift my eyes to the one who sees me there
When I’m standing on the mountain aft, didn’t get there on my own”
When I’m walking through the valley end, no I am not alone!

At sunset tonight, a thunderstorm entered our area and thus, the third day of the Jewish High Holy Days began. I look at the question that I have set aside for today and wonder about the vision I see for the coming year. Then I get sidetracked and I wonder what Rabbi Yeshua pondered for his vision during his ministry years? What did his mother, Mary, envision for her life in that coming year as she watched her son set about His Father’s business? The disciples? His family?

You’re God of the hills and valleys!
Hills and Valleys!
God of the hills and valleys
And I am not alone!
You’re God of the hills and valleys!
Hills and Valleys!
God of the hills and valleys
And I am not alone!” ~”Hills and Valleys” by Tauren Wells

Sometimes – I think way too much. I just need to turn off the question machine and listen, be thankful, and bend the cranky ol’ knees. After all – 17 years can go by in the blink of an eye.

“Listen Now -Serve the LORD with fear
and celebrate his rule with trembling.” ~Psalm 2:11 

9 11 2018

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A STIFF-NECKED, STUBBORN SOUL

For a couple of years when I was in college, I sang in a choir for the High Holy Days at a nearby Jewish synagogue. It was there that I made the connection that Jesus – Yeshua – was a Jewish rabbi. It’s not that I hadn’t been told that – after all it is in the gospels. He was called, “Rabbi”, and I’m sure that at some point, one of my pastors or teachers must have mentioned it. But it took a Rosh Hashanah and the 10 days to Yom Kippur to make it sink in through my stiff-neck, stubborn self. 
Day after day as I walked into the synagogue and listened to the rituals that had been passed down through the ages, my  eyes opened a little wider and I began to wonder about things that had never entered my thick skull before.
“Sing to the Lord a new song,
for he has done marvelous things;
His right hand and his holy arm
have worked salvation for him.
The Lord has made his salvation known
and revealed his righteousness to the nations.
He has remembered his love
and his faithfulness to Israel;
all the ends of the earth have seen
the salvation of our God.” Ps 98:1-4
 
It was the first time I heard a shofar. The first time I heard the Jewish language. The first time I saw Jewish words in print. The first time I tried to look through the eyes of the Jewish worldview at the Savior that I had fallen in love with long ago..
 
Jewish oral tradition believes that Tishri 1 – this head of the year – was the day people were created. It continues that this was also the day that Abraham’s Sarah became pregnant, and a few years later – the day when Issac was bound to be offered as a sacrifice. It was only after God provided a sacrifice to replace Issac that He created the first two shofroth from the horns of that sheep. It would serve as a loud testimony down through the ages of His love and faithfulness to all His people.  
 
The LORD remembered His love for His people. The LORD made His salvation known to all the ends of the earth with the sound of the horns. Just as the Father breathed life into His child, man breaths life into the sofar as The Feast of the Trumpets rings throughout the land. 
 
“with trumpets and the blast of the ram’s horn—
shout for joy before the Lord, the King.” Ps 98:6
 
Many continue to use the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur as a period of fasting and reflection. A time to look back, and a time to look forward A time to throw out failures and a time to draw a new vision. A time to mourn over foolishness, and a time to sing over successes. A time to look within, and a time to look up to the One who breathed life into clay and continues to love unconditionally.
 
A couple years back, for each of the 10 days of High Holy Days, a question was posed on an electronic billboard in Times Square in NYC. Questions meant to encourage contemplation for the new year to anyone who read them . I don’t know what those questions were, but I do wonder as I start to formulate my own journey for these next 10 days. After all, Jesus honored, as was His habit, His Father’s commands in Leviticus 23 as He walked this earth. It just might do some good for this stubborn, stiff-necked soul as well.
 
“Let the sea resound, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it.
Let the rivers clap their hands,
let the mountains sing together for joy;
Let them sing before the Lord,
for he comes to judge the earth.
He will judge the world in righteousness
and the peoples with equity.” Ps 98:7-9 

 

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I CHOOSE

It has been one of those awful, no-good, very bad, terrible days when nothing went right from the minute I left devotions. So these are the days – I stick out my tongue and repeat over and over and over again : I CHOOSE JOY! “For surely, Goodness and Mercy follow me all the days of my life and I WILL dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”~Ps 23

So – hopefully – pretty-please-with-sugar-on-top  –  please???– computer issue fixed, $$ spent, and lesson plan printed. All the million of things that were lost – found. A bucket of cherry tomatoes stored in the fridge. A couple pieces of wood carried back to the fire pit. And – beautiful magnolia blossom from my very own Southern tree to remind me that God knows how I need flowers on such a day as this.

“High times, hard times
Sometimes the livin’ is sweet
And sometimes there’s nothing to eat
But I always land on my feet

So when there’s dry times
I wait for high times and then
I put on my best and I stick out my chest
And I’m off to the races again!”~Newsies, 1992

I think this is definitely a weekend to watch Newsies for the umpteenth time. To listen to Ann Margaret sing those words that still sing in my head on these kind of days while I recite His promises over and over and over.

Be-attitudes to the rescue again.

“Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.”– Matt 5:8

He never promised it would be easy. He never promised that there wouldn’t be days when the head feels ten sizes bigger than it should. Days when nothing seems easy. Days when the Spirit moves you so high in morning chapel, and the evil one tries to pull you so low for the rest of the day.

I choose joy. I choose His promises. I choose to look at my goat pictures tonight – and my magnolia blossom – and sing of His praises forever and ever and ever.

AMEN and AMEN!

And – of course – to end this I had to go back re-take a picture, up-load, down-load because somehow it didn’t get saved the first time. And that is exactly how today has gone. Can’t wait to start a new day with my Father tomorrow. 

Whew! 
“The Son will come up tomorrow…”       [personal images]

GOODNIGHT, GOODNIGHT

Yesterday, a woman came with a bag bursting at the seams with children’s books. Heraugust 10 2018 a humble heart spoke over her words as she showed me the treasures buried within that bag. They were her books. Books of her childhood. Books of my childhood. Early Primers. 
Yogi Bear, Bugs Bunny, Huckle Berry Hound Books. 
Golden books. 
Tell-a-Tale Books.
Tears shined in her eyes as she turned to leave and truth be told, shone in mine as well.

 

Strange the things you remember from 60 years ago. Stories read to you and read by you. The image on the front of a book, and the back of a book that caught my breath in familiarity. Did I read those lists books over and over – dreaming about reading them? Or was it the cutesy, baby animals that cavorted around those titles? Then again, I remember the back of the Golden Books just as well. A few years later, Golden Books would also add little pictures surrounding titles.

Best of all, it was the memory attached to these books that slowed my day down. Curled into my mother or father’s side at bedtime. Yawning and struggling to keep my eyes open after prayers just to hear one more story before they tucked the covers tight around me, turned off the light and left me gazing at the stars.

For years and years and years, long after the parents had stopped reading to me, I would gaze up at those glow-in-the-dark stars my Father had put on the ceiling, and tell myself a continuation of all those stories or stories-yet-to-be as I fell asleep. Sometimes with music in my head and sometimes with music from downstairs, I would drift off to sleep “…with a peace of GOD that passeth all understanding.”~Phil 4:7

I realize now how blessed I was that My Father chose this path for me. Easier than some – harder than others – but on a path designed just for me. So tonight as I re-read this small, familiar book of prayers, yawning and fighting to keep my eyes open long enough to read one more prayer, I wish I still had my initials written on my ceiling and could hear the music from downstairs once again because “….surely goodness and mercy [has] follow[ed] me all the days of my life and I [have] dwell[ed] in the house of the LORD forever.”~Ps 23:6

“Good night! Good night! Far flies the light;
But still God’s love shall flame above,
Making all bright. Good night! Good night!”august 10 2018 f

TIME TO AWAKEN

“It is already the hour for you to awaken from sleep…”

50 years ago today, I was standing backstage of a theatre in England with 100+ other OH kids waiting to sing our first concert before British royalty. The director stepped up to me and asked, “Are you ready to sing your solo tonight?”

I said, “I guess.”

He looked at me for what seemed eternity, and then said, “Since you’re not sure, John will sing it tonight.” John did sing it that night and did a great job. Me? I learned a tough lesson.

I got to sing my solo many times after that – once in front of the Vatican and a Pope who came to stand on the balcony – but I never forgot that one particular lesson or many others that my director, Glenville Thomas, taught me during my two years with The All Ohio State Fair Choir.

Looking back through my teenage scrapbook this week made me smile. From the distinctive, high school handwriting to the blurry pictures to the various faded newspaper clippings to the required (by the director) letters I wrote home to the anxious parents to a few postcards and old mimeographed programs, I kept chuckling all the way through those bittersweet times. 
Wondering about those lost singing buddies – 
Looking at the list of songs I can still sing in my head – 
Thinking about the many lessons I learned because a Welsh immigrant who loved to sing had a dream.

“…the night is almost gone, and the day is at hand.”– Rom 13:11

It was during these two years that my fascinations with old churches and singing under bridges all began. It was a different time. A different culture. We were given freedom to roam away from the group, and there was a group of us who would seek out old churches – even the ones we weren’t singing in.

There was almost always at least one STAB quartet in our group so we could sing in harmony on most anything we decided to sing and the acoustics were well worth the seeking. If we couldn’t find churches, we would find bridges and sing under them. If we couldn’t find bridges, we sang in parks. And sometimes – we just sang in the lobby of the hotel.

No matter where we sang, people gathered. They laughed. 
They smiled. They found ways to communicate with us even when we didn’t speak the same language. And – strange as it may seem, I remember those tiny concerts much more than I remember the ones we did as an entire group before large impressive crowds. And I remember the choir director who smiled and listened to our stories when we returned.

“I will sing to the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.”~Ps 104:33

My voice has been gone for a couple of years, but the last few months it seems to be making a comeback. So I have been stretching it and pushing the boundaries a little. It is still not in great shape, but it is better, and I have started to sing just for the joy of singing again.

Darkness is like that. The eyes grow heavy, and it is hard to find the joy in being awake in this world. Yet – even in the darkest night I continue to push myself into the WORD. Push myself to understand what is beyond my understanding. Seek to find that nook where I can stand or fall to my knees or dance for joy or sing a new song for the One who loves me beyond measure.

“…for now salvation is nearer to us than when we believed…let us therefore lay aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of Light.”~Rm 13:11-12

Time to awaken from sleep.
Time to open the eyes.
Time to stand in the nook.
Time to sing for joy.
Time for Grace.

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GOLDEN SAPPHIRE

Darkling day.
Cloudy day.
Windy day.
Chilly day.

And yet –

For a brief moment – while the rest of the world sat in the twilight of today’s last’s visages – the fiery sun burnt a hole in the thick clouds until the horizon blazed fiery orange through the dark blueish gray around it; giving light to impending darkness.

Tops of trees brushed in burnished brass – 
Tips singed first – 
Until bright flames shot –
Further –
Deeper –
Down the trunks –
Flames coloring the world in its image –
While the Breath of Life swirled new sparks 
Golden sparkles – 
That spun and reflected the Light back into the darkness –
Flowing over the branches – 
Tree after tree bowing in rhythm – 
Waiting to be touched –
By the Firestarter’s unfailing hand –

And my breath caught.

Time stopped.

Ayn Sof spoke.

“Be still, and know that I am God;”~Ps 46:10

Golden sapphires.
Unbroken covenants.
Reminders – that even in the darkest of times – 
The saddest of times – 
The chaotic mess of times –
The soft twilight times –
His Fire continues to burn bushes – 
Tall trees –
Souls 
Fired with His wisdom –
And immeasurable fiery Light into the world –
Once more – 
Over –
And over –
And over again –
Until the whole world knows.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”~Ez 36:26

So tonight this is my prayer:
That God be glorified –
In whatever afflicted, messy poverty that towers above my world – over my head – beneath my feet – within my heart
That I remember the Helper – the Deliverer –
The Holy Ground around the bush –
“To Him be the glory and the power forever and ever, Amen.” ~1 Peter 4:11da         TheBurningBush [google images]

BREADCRUMBS: Owl Wisdom

“Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion.”~Ep 6:18a

Finally.

Years of camping – girl scouts and beyond. 
Years of living in the country. 
Years of sitting outside, listening and watching.
Years of listening to them at night as they hooted me to sleep.

Finally – – – I saw a real life owl in the wild.

Luckily, my life hasn’t been devoid of seeing owls. I’ve seen owls many times on trips to the zoo. White owls, brown owls, gray owls and even saw one up close and personal on a writing retreat while it sat on a park ranger’s arm. But I have never seen one as God created them. 
Soaring.
Sitting.
Looking at me.

“Stay alert and be persistent in your prayers for all believers everywhere.”~Ep 6:18b

Our gimpy little girl who isn’t supposed to run and yet never stops running when she is outside, actually startled it as she raced through the woods. I turned to watch what she was doing when the owl took wing to another branch. It was facing the road away from me, and then it did that awesome cool owly thing that everyone loves. It turned its head all the way around to look directly at me.

I know it was only a moment, and yet – it was one of those moments that takes your breath away and lasts for a lot longer. I can still see it. My own personal miracle and a childhood prayer answered in the best way ever. Koay yipped and off it flew out of sight.

“I waited patiently for the LORD; And He inclined to me and heard my cry.”~Ps 40:1

Lately, I’ve noticed that many times my devotions dovetail each other as if they were written by the same person. And if I’m paying really close attention, I notice that they address those really hard things that I’ve been praying in the Spirit for as well. Duh! Throwback time. Back to the times when I used to sit in choir practice and make mistakes. Hit myself in the head – DUH – literally. While they may have been written at different times by different people, they were inspired by the One who spoke the WORD into being.

“I was dancin’ in the dark when I saw your open arms. Barefoot on the cross, and now I hear you in every song. When my life was still a mess, You saw something beautiful, and I don’t deserve it, but Your Grace is perfect tonight.”~Phillipa Hanna, “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran

Answered prayers don’t come when we expect them. Often, they don’t come how we expect them. Sometimes, we don’t even know they have been answered. Then again, some may be not be answered until way after we’ve gone home. But all in all, prayers are always answered. We just don’t like all the answers because they aren’t answered OUR way.

Tonight, the kitty that answered a prayer I didn’t know I had keeps sitting on the keyboard batting my hands. For whatever reason, she wants a little extra attention tonight – and I indulge her until she hops down to chase the mousy sounds she hears in the kitchen.

I like to think Our Father God and His Son and Spirit are much the same way. Our prayers sing in Their combined heart – begging for a little extra on some nights – a little more cuddling – a little more encouragement until we hop away to chase after the next thing.

The good news – The Trinity is still there. Waiting for those prayers. Waiting for us to jump up into their laps. Purring a little louder for a little more attention. Kneading their hands with our tiny claws until they smile and sing a new song in our heart with their love.

I look at the breadcrumbs on the road before me. They are no longer abundantly covering the road. They have dwindled to few and far between. The destination that seemed so far away is just ahead. Passion Week – just days away. And I wonder at the journey I have been on for 32 days.

The journey of the owl into my life. A life-long prayer answered. A time to continue to pray with precise language – a time to look forward in prayer – a time to open my eyes to the miracles around me and rejoice. A time of breadcrumbs.

“When I’m dancin’ in the dark, I will raise my weary arms, and thank you for the cross, and the Grace that’s enough for anyone. When you found me in a mess, You saw something beautiful, and I don’t deserve it, but your Grace is perfect. I don’t feel worthy, but your Grace is perfect tonight.”~Ibid.