Are we ever ready for change?

I forget, in the gloom of a series of rainy days, that beautiful things happen when I am not looking. The garden stretches her appendages like a child, asleep, who wakes a size wider or longer. Last night she seems to have multiplied the army of happy faced pansies that are ready far sooner than the strawberries they protect from pests. The rain makes their faces shiny and bolder and larger. And my heart needs them, for I have been born of summer, and need their perpetual bloom for motivation and divine communication. 

Why, you ask? Because they too express the unhindered Love of the Maker, and lavish it on anyone who looks their way, regardless of the face they stare into. They scream in their diversity, that it is a shame to miss the innate beauty and design in each person - to pull one out, or up, before it has a chance to speak - cutting destiny short is tragedy. We must not miss the joy presented to us by choosing not to look. We must choose to know what is ours to explore, and embrace the wonder of it. 

Shelter. Refuge. Peace. Beauty.


In a world so flummoxed by skewed facts and agendas, how does one seek anything safe, stable, kind? Is there enough silence for the soul to hear the song it was born to sing? Be still, child, and listen, for it is within... and that place, none can trespass but who is given passage.  

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true grace is barefoot... grounded, connected and aware of what it touches, unafraid to get dirty, willing to move and to dance.