One morning last week as I drove down a familiar country road and the chalky sky dulled the day’s light, I yielded to my yearnings and stopped to snap a photo.
Wings of Grace We caught glimpses of gold on our Sunday walk. The glow was as though we were listening to brass— as if nature’s baritones commingled with the horn of the high-pitched piccolo.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
Last Saturday, Andy and I travelled into the evening hours towards a Christmas party. We passed candlelit windows that seemed to invite family and friends in for a warm welcome.
In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength but you would have none of it.