Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.
Enough of Easter lilies, trumpets and choirs and angels and their improbable wings folded tight in the tomb.
Let me find glory in a single bird working a bare branch, your breath that wakens me, in brown grass turning slowly green, glory enough.
Splendor drably disguised as grey days and banal tasks, as a high pressure front of chores and deadlines pushes the warm, moist air of heaven out of our awareness. The sun will rise beyond our ken, unless attentiveness breaks through.
Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve
__________________ Steve Garnaas-Holmes Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net
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