The week is nearly over though I’m convinced it just started.
It’s funny how much quicker time seems to go by as we get older. Our days are so packed to the brim with appointments and deadlines and all that other boring adult stuff that we don’t have the time to stop and take note of the tiny, wonderful moments in our lives.
The sound of a choir singing together brings to mind harmony, exaltation, a blissful sound.
It is uplifting and joyous. It can move us emotionally and with great power. What happens when the choir sings off key? We are startled by it. We are uncomfortable with it. We look forward to when it ends.
“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer is an oil painting, autumn is a mosaic of them all.” — Stanley Horowitz
I’m writing this letter to thank you for never leaving me, even after all this time, after I went ahead and grew up. Even now – you stay. And I love you, because I need you, and to be able to pretend, and you know me like no one else could.
I feel you close by, just a whisper’s distance, even when life gets overwhelming and my Second Star seems quite far away. You are in my periphery always, and I want you to know that I catch a precious glimpse of you each time you come to visit like the treasured company you are.
Imagine a lush garden in your backyard teeming with growth and abundance — full of life. You grow your own fresh ear of corn you can pick right off the stalk, your children can climb up your apple trees and pick juicy, sweet apples right off the tree, and you can pull crisp cucumbers and squash right off the vine for your supper.
There is something about growing my own food and working in the garden, getting my hands deep into the earth — that makes my spirit come alive. My soul awakens when I grow the very food that will nourish me and my family.