The world watches and waits. Even the trees seem pregnant with meaning.
It is not the season for signs on the doorframe, but still we hang a wreath.
The angel will come, as angels always do.
The Divine will be found in places we would not expect, the small shacks and cottages on the margins.
We wait for the words we long to hear.
Every element of God's creation sings this song of love for us if we had but ears to hear.
feeling the feelings…
1 year ago