Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.
In buildings too long without letting herself out of windows, without crawling around enough, she finally escaped into an untended lot and began the work of healing her bond with the earth. She hunched and stitched her attention, thread by thread, with each pebble, each blade of grass, each little bundle of dirt and dead roots, each tendril of weed and nameless bug, until she had woven a web of tenderness with a little tumult of soil and its sky, no wider than her knee. Despairing of the vastness of it all, she went to bed that night weary and a little dubious. But she should have known: in the night those threads out in the dark grew, as they do, rooting among trees, conversing knowingly with birds, until by dawn the whole earth was woven again into a living whole, eager to greet her with the tenderest love.
Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve
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