Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you. Along Main and Pleasant and Spring, shoulder to shoulder through town stand all these red brick buildings. Brick by brick, a city is made. Each brick was laid by hand, with a trowel and a string, and an eye for straight lines and plumb edges. All of the walls, the straight ones, the worn, painted ones, the old and crumbling, leaning ones are pages of an old book. The arched windows, the palladian windows, the columns and corbels, pediments and pilasters set in at the rousing turn of the last century by men in overalls and cardigans, intent on creating a beautiful wall and a fine city, are not like modern windows. They say something.
Everything in this world, every tangle of undergrowth, every rumpled cloud, every troubled tribe, every sorry excuse for a soul was laid by hand.
Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve
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