Kim Chernin says: It moves forward fitfully, through moments of clear seeing, dramatic episodes of feeling, subtle intuitions, vague contemplative states. Dreams arrive, bringing guidance we frequently cannot accept. Years pass, during which we know that we are involved in something that cannot be easily named. We wake to a sense of confusion, know that we are in dangerous conflict, cannot define the nature of what troubles us. All change is like this. It circles around, snakes back on itself, finds detours, leads us on a merry chase, starts us out it seems all over again from where we were in the first place. And then suddenly, when we least expect it, something opens a door, discovers a threshold, shoves us across.
(Kim Chernin, Source: Reinventing Eve)
We always hope that when the door opens, we will be shoved across a pleasant threshold, that all will be well for us, that the journey has led us to a peaceful place. That’s what God is for, to fill us with good hope and to lead us to pleasant places. I don’t know about you, but I am so glad that God is in charge of my life journey. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
No journeys really are not predictable. And sometimes we can’t see where we’re going. But we follow a God who does know where we’re going.
“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
What we all long for is a future and a hope. We strive on our own strength to build a future, sometimes succeeding in getting ourselves to where we want to go, and sometimes hitting a roadblock. It almost never occurs to us to simply rest on the promise we find in the book of Jeremiah.
But it’s comforting to know that God’s thoughts of us are thoughts of peace and that God’s intention is to give us a future and a hope. I want to learn to rest on that, to place my faith in that, and to stop struggling to build my own future.
I will be spending a few days with my family this week in the mountains of north Georgia. I plan to spend some quiet time there thinking about my future and the hope that I so need. I know that God will meet me there. Thanks be to the God of promises fulfilled.
Art by Jennifer LommersI love this poem by Terry Tempest Williams that speaks of healing the world through joy.
Once upon a time,
When women were birds,
There was the simple understanding
That to sing at dawn
And to sing at dusk
Was to heal the world through joy.
The birds still remember what we have forgotten,
That the world is meant to be celebrated.
Through the years, women have celebrated, sometimes through their tears. Many women have learned to face adversity with song. We still hear their melodic voices.
Born Eleanora Fagan in 1915, Billie Holiday spent much of her young life in Baltimore, Maryland. Living in extreme poverty, Holiday dropped out of school in the fifth grade and found a job running errands in a brothel. When she was twelve, Holiday moved with her mother to Harlem, where she was eventually arrested for prostitution. Considered by many to be the greatest jazz vocalist of all time, Billie Holiday lived a tempestuous life. Her singing expressed an incredible depth of emotion that spoke of hard times and injustice as well as triumph. Though her career was relatively short and often erratic, she left behind a body of work as great as any vocalist before or since.
Miriam, the sister of Moses, became the leader of the Hebrew women when they escaped from Egypt. On one occasion she and the women sang the Song of Miriam; it is one of the few songs that survive from the ancient world. She led the song of victory after the Red Sea parted, and God gave abundant water to the people, in the form of a spring,
Country singer, Kellie Pickler’s mother left when Kellie was two years old, then returned and took custody of her for two years. After this, the court returned Kellie to her grandparents when she was 12 and they raised her to adulthood because her father was in and out of jail. But in March 1995, with Kellie’s father in prison for armed robbery, her mother was granted custody. She was in the fourth grade. “She got custody of me for two years,” Pickler said in a February 2006 interview. “During that time, she was physically and mentally abusive of me.” In a 1997 court filing, Pickler’s grandparents said that her mother had moved to Union County with the girl and treated the child harshly. The court restored custody to the grandparents. Her mother vanished again, and Pickler has not heard from her since.
When Pickler’s debut album, Small Town Girl, was released in October 2006, it contained “I Wonder,” a song she co-wrote with Chris Lindsey, Aimee Mayo and Karyn Rochelle. The heart-wrenching tune, which addresses the singer’s feelings about her non-existent relationship with her mother, was released as the second single from Small Town Girl. These are the poignant lyrics:
Sometimes I think about you,
Wonder if you’re out there somewhere thinking bout me;
And would you even recognize the woman that your little girl has grown up to be;
Cause I look in the mirror and all I see are your brown eyes looking back at me;
They’re the only thing you ever gave to me at all.
Oh, I hear the weather’s nice in California;
There’s sunny skies as far I can see.
If you ever come back home to Carolina,
I wonder what you’d say to me.
I think about how it ain’t fair that you weren’t there to braid my hair
Like mothers do
You weren’t around to cheer me on,
Help me dress for my high school prom Like mothers do
Did you think I didn’t need you here?
To hold my hand?
To dry my tears?
Did you even miss me through the years at all?
Forgiveness is such a simple word,
But it’s so hard to do when you’ve been hurt.
Oh, I hear the weather’s nice in California;
And just in case you’re wondering about me;
From now on I won’t be in Carolina;
Your little girl is off,
Your little girl is off,
Your little girl is off to Tennessee.
Many women have known adversity. They have also learned to sing in the midst of it.
Joshua S. Carlson Photography captures this fall shot in the Arkansas Ozarks.
In order to draw near to God, we must still our souls and extract ourselves from all the busyness of life. A few minutes of stilling our souls each day will do wonders for our spiritual and emotional life. This beloved hymn always strengthens me when I feel far from God.
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
With an act of the will, I often have to tell my soul to be still. It does not come naturally for a person who is compelled to be busy with art, writing, cooking, and all manner of life activity. All that busyness makes for the spiritual problem of not spending still time alone with God.
God admonishes us to “be still and know that I am God.” So the stillness is critically important. The words of the hymn shows us many promises that can help us still our souls:
“Leave to thy God to order and provide.”
“In every change, He faithful will remain.”
“Thy God doth undertake to guide the future as He has the past.”
“Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake.”
“The waves and winds still know His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.”
“When change and tears are past, all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.”
My soul can be still when I truly rest on these promises. And when my soul is still, I can draw ever near to God.
My tree lives in my front yard. It is a tree with many names. The Chinese tallow has many common names in the US and other countries. In the southern US, it is called chicken tree, popcorn tree, candleberry tree, vegetable tallow, white waxberry and Florida aspen. In French, it is boiré (to drink). In Spanish, árbol del sebo. In its native land of China, it is called wu bai (black cypress, or blackbird tree).
I just call it my tree. We have a daily appointment in which I take photos of my tree to watch it change seasons. I have learned that a watched autumn never changes, at least not quickly. It is a process of patient waiting and wondering what color the leaves will become. There are some signs, but no change yet. I will share a few pictures of my tree, and then I’ll keep you posted as it changes.
Oh, and by the way, my tree has given me many hours of re-creation in its shade.
On a trip in the Great Smoky Mountains when our son was about three years old, he became troubled as we drove the winding mountain roads. Finally, he cried, “I don’t know where my home is!” He was a very sad and concerned little fellow.
It is quite disconcerting to not know where we are. I experience that every day now that we have moved to Georgia. I am blessed with a very travel worthy driver, but as for me, I haven’t known where I am since we’ve been here.
Emotionally and spiritually, it is even more troubling to wonder where you are, to recall all the places you could have been, to long for the places you wished to be. I am comforted by these words written by Margaret Silf:
God comes to us not where we should have been if we had made all the right choices in life; not where we could have been if we had taken every opportunity that God has offered us; not where we wish we were if we didn’t have to be in the place where we find ourselves; not where we think we are because our minds are out of sync with our hearts; not where other people think we are or think we ought to be when they are attending to their own agendas. God meets us where we really are.
Margaret Silf
Source: Inner Compass Add Your Thoughts
I am very glad that, in spite of the many places I wandered in life or hoped to be, God meets me where I really am.
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning
This is the season when nature paints its trees with vibrant color. And it seems that every common bush really is on fire with God. The poet described it well. She also described humankind well, portraying us as persons who hardly take notice of the beauty around us in the autumn season.
This year, I want to notice. I want to take in the brilliance as if it were the last autumn I will ever experience. I want to see the vivid color and feel the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet. I want to smell the chill in the air, and marvel at the blue in the sky. I want to watch the leaves fall, blown about by a soft wind. I want to see the God in every bush.
And I want to make sure that my shoes are off in homage to the sacred beauty of God’s world.
I don’t need to spend any time plucking blackberries.
So writes the Psalmist, and reminds us of the importance of stillness, lying down and taking rest, being about those acts that restore our souls. In a world of constant chaos, I find it extremely important to restore my soul. If you are aware of all that goes on every day in our world – violence, war, anger, abuse – you also know how important it is to restore your soul.
And then there is also the challenge of personal traumas like illness, relationship problems, financial difficulties. The challenges we face every day can sometimes be powerful enough to bring us to our knees . . . which is, by the way, where we need to be.
Prayer is important. Being quiet in God’s presence is important. Waiting for God beside still waters restores our souls and empowers us to go on another day.
I have a challenge ahead of me that brings with it certain concerns. As I am being evaluated for a possible kidney transplant, I am reminded of my vulnerability, of the physical weakness I endured throughout 2014, of the risks involved in major surgery. I am in a state of worry and confusion about it, a confusion that stays with me until I head for still waters.
I do know one thing most certainly: that physical health absolutely requires that my soul be restored beside the still waters of faith . . .
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. . . . Even though I walk through the valley of shadows, I will not fear, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff comfort me. (Psalm 23, paraphrased)
I have a clear memory of a childhood pot garden. I remember putting soil in plastic cups, placing one seed in each cup, watering the seeds and placing them in our school window. Waiting for the sprouts to appear seemed to take forever.
I was impatient and very curious about what the seeds were doing. I watered every day, looking for any tiny sign of a sprout. There was nothing! Just a cup full of dirt, lightly watered, sitting there!
I began to have serious doubts, in spite of the fact that my teacher was so upbeat, so sure we would see sprouts, so convinced that we would all have little seedlings by spring.
I think she did not properly prepare us for the wait. At the time when I expected to see strong, little green seedlings, I saw nothing. And I was discouraged, to say the least.
Habakkuk 2:3 speaks of waiting with these words: “For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.”
Faith requires patience in all things. It often requires waiting for that which we long for to come to pass. It requires knowing what we have planted in faith, and believing that it will eventually grow.
I know that one of the most trying prayers for me has been prayers for my child. In faith, hope and expectation, I have prayed without ceasing that he would transition into a successful, happy adult. I prayed the same prayer for years. For years, I saw no sign of new growth. I have never given up.
So I waited and waited for these sprouts. One day, I reached my limit and dug my finger into the soil to find one of the seeds. I found one, and then I quickly stuck the seed back in the dirt before the teacher could see me. I pushed it down under the dirt much deeper than it was planted before.
Days passed, and eventually spouts appeared in every cup. The one I dug up took the longest and was the smallest of them all.
The lessons from this story?
Faith requires patience.
What you plant will grow in its own time.
Leave things alone.
And in the words of Elisabeth Elliot, “Don’t dig up in doubt what you planted in faith.”
If you listen to the daily news, you can quickly become saturated with stories of violence, violence of all kinds. It disturbs the soul, and yet we listen, with a deep longing that there will be a way to stop it.
The ravages of war . . . Gun violence . . . Children harming other children . . . Adults beating children . . . A man using physical violence against his spouse . . . The sex trafficking of children . . . The stories are too much to hear.
Psalm 122 offers a heartening word against violence:
I rejoiced when I heard them announce,
“The time of warfare is past.
No more will brother hate brother
or violence have its way.
No more will they drown out God’s silence
and shut their hearts to his song.”
Pray for peace in the cities
and harmony among the races.
May peace come to live on our streets
and justice within our walls.
With all my heart I will pray
that peace comes to live among us.
For the sake of all earth’s people,
I will do my utmost for peace.
(Source: The Psalms (translated by Stephen Mitchell)
Life is not always a mountaintop experience. Circumstances can take us to a low place emotionally. When I am low, I often listen to the words of this moving song:
When I am down, and, oh, my soul, so weary,
When troubles come, and my heart burdened be.
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence;
Until you come and sit awhile with me.
You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains.
You raise me up to walk on stormy seas.
I am strong when I am on your shoulders.
You raise me up to more than I can be.
There is no life, no life without its hunger.
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly.
But then you come, and I am filled with wonder.
Sometimes I think I glimpse eternity.
There are times when my soul is weary. Not just tired, but deep-down weary. Life sometimes brings us the kind of trials that have the power to bring us down. For some, it is illness. Others go through relationship struggles or financial challenges. Still others grieve the loss of a loved one. These are not usually short-term losses. Instead, they bring suffering for a season, often a very long season. Losing someone you love, for instance, brings on a lengthy grieving process, and many people mourn this kind of loss for years.
The song mentions being still and waiting in the silence. It is there that God comes to us with healing and a renewed spirit. The waiting is the hardest part for some of us. We desire instant fixes that move us past the pain quickly. But it just does not happen that way.
God allows mourning to be a process, and in the middle of that process, we grow and change, and eventually, are able to find joy and peace again. The song tells of being able to stand on mountains and walk on stormy seas, to be strong again and to become “more than I can be.” Those are miracles of grace that come from God alone.
I invite you to listen to this song’ “You Raise Me Up” on YouTube at the following link: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Yfwlj0gba_k
Girls raised in the South can sometimes become obsessed with being “good girls.” Often we Southern girls take gentility to a new level, being polite at all costs. It’s how we were taught. The trouble is that we sometimes harm ourselves in deference to the needs of others. It’s our way.
Feminism is a negative word to many people. But it can be a positive word when referring to becoming self-actualized, self-confident, and self-assured within ourselves as women. The Bible, in fact, even honored one “bad girl.”
Consider the prostitute we know as Rahab, who ended up playing an important role in God’s grand design. Her story tells us that two of Joshua’s spies ended up at her house. She provided a safe house for them. And the Bible says that Joshua spared Rahab the prostitute, with her family and all who belonged to her, because she hid the men Joshua had sent as spies to Jericho. (Joshua 6:25)
Bad girl or not, God’s generous mercy and boundless grace spared her life, as well as “her father’s household” (ASV) and “all who belonged to her” (NRSV). The people that she loved, God loved and protected.
So maybe we shouldn’t be so concerned with being “good girls” in the eyes of the world that tends to prefer “submissive girls” over bold, brave women who know how to live life with grace-filled confidence.
Was the woman who anointed the feet of Jesus with her alabaster jar of perfume at Simon’s house a bad girl because she had been a prostitute?
Do you see this woman? Jesus asked. (Luke 7:44)
Simon saw only a prostitute. Jesus saw her past, and he also saw her in the moment. He described how she had just honored him, then he made this grace-filled announcement: Her sins, which are many, are forgiven. (Luke 7:47 ASV). Jesus didn’t see her as a bad girl.
How about Abigail, who loaded up a feast and went to meet David, hoping that her actions would calm David so that he would spare her family from death? David agreed to spare the family for Abigail’s sake. (1 Samuel 25) Was she a bad girl who didn’t know her place?
I believe that God is pleased when women stand tall with strength and courage, taking control over their lives, protecting their loved ones, living out their personal faith, and creating their own relationship with their Creator. The world might well call us “bad girls,” but God calls us women of faith.
The house is quiet. My spirit is quiet. My soul is silent. It’s not a bad state to find myself in. It’s a state of content, without a hint of worry or concern. It is a good Sabbath condition in which to find myself.
I am grateful for these times of quietness, because it is in these times that I am able to fully worship God from the depths of my being. There are no interruptions to my prayers and I am here, alone with a God who truly cares for me.
1 Peter 3:4 describes the “hidden person of the heart.”
. . . but let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the imperishable quality of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is precious in the sight of God.
I do not always experience a gentle and quiet spirit, but today is one of the times when I am experiencing gentleness and quietness. It makes room for God to be here near me. And that is a good thing for my soul.
The very old gospel hymn “Blessed Quietness,” which was written in 1897, comes to mind this morning.
Blessèd quietness, holy quietness,
What assurance in my soul!
On the stormy sea, He speaks peace to me,
How the billows cease to roll!
It is not the task of Christianity to provide easy answers to every question, but to make us progressively aware of a mystery. God is not so much the object of our knowledge as the cause of our wonder. -Kallistos Ware
As is my habit, I awaken early every morning before Fred is up, even before the sun is up. It is my intent to spend that early morning time drawing closer to God. I read the Bible, I listen to hymns, I read what others have written about relationship with God. And yet, at times I feel empty, devoid of any divine experience.
Sometimes it’s all just mundane reading. On some days, I may as well be meditating on the postman or the bug man. It’s not supposed to be that way, I know, but I am often filled with questions about how to draw close to God in a meaningful way. And then I ran across the quotation written by Kallistos Ware.
Becoming progressively aware of the mystery of God, as he puts it, seems to be my sticking point. When he says that “God is not so much the object of our knowledge as the cause of our wonder,” I am taken aback by the truth. It’s not about my reading and studying. It’s not about the knowledge I acquire about the Bible and other readings. It’s about discovering God anew every day in my spirit, not so much in my head. It’s about contemplating the mystery of God and allowing that contemplation to change me from within.
Perhaps it is more about sunrises than about scripture passages. Perhaps it is more about nature’s beauty than about philosophers’ writings. Perhaps it is more about my soul than about my brain. Perhaps it is not so much about my knowledge about God, but more about God as a mystery. Perhaps it is not so much about God as a divine friend, but more about God as the object of my wonder.
I think I’m on to something, maybe something life changing.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…” So begins one of the most beloved hymns of all times.The author of the words was John Newton, who was born in London July 24, 1725, the son of a commander of a merchant ship. When John was eleven, he went to sea with his father and made six voyages with him before the elder Newton retired. In 1744 John was impressed into service on the H. M. S. Harwich. Finding conditions on board intolerable, he deserted, but was soon recaptured and publicly flogged and demoted from midshipman to common seaman.
Finally at his own request he was exchanged into service on a slave ship, which took him to the coast of Sierra Leone, where he then became the servant of a slave trader and was brutally abused. John Newton ultimately became captain of his own ship and was involved in the slave trade.
Although he had some early religious instruction from his mother, who had died when he was a child, he had long since given up any religious convictions. However, on a homeward voyage, while he was attempting to steer the ship through a violent storm, he experienced what he was to refer to later as his “great deliverance.” He recorded in his journal that when all seemed lost and the ship would surely sink, he exclaimed, “Lord, have mercy upon us.” Later, he reflected on what he had said and began to believe that God had addressed him through the storm and that grace had begun to work within him.
For the rest of his life he observed the anniversary of May 10, 1748 as the day of his conversion, a day of humiliation in which he subjected his will to a higher power. He wrote, “Thro’ many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; ’tis grace has bro’t me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” Although he continued in the slave trade for a time after his conversion, he saw to it that the slaves under his care were treated humanely.
Like all of us, John Newton was not a perfect person. He was enslaved by his own wrongdoing, just as we sometimes are. But what he found was a forgiving God who offered amazing grace.
I hope you will listen to an exquisite arrangement of this hymn on YouTube. Follow this link, scroll halfway down the page and you will see the video of BYU’s Noteworthy, a very talented a capella group. http://inspiremore.com/noteworthy-sings-amazing-grace-a-capella/
As a part of this arrangement, they sing these words:
My chains are gone.
I’ve been set free.
My God, my Savior has ransomed me.
And like a flood His mercy reigns;
Unending love, amazing grace.
I pray that each of us find that our chains are gone, and that we bask in the light of God’s freedom and grace.
Grieving and mourning losses is not a once-and-done act. It is a process that takes twists and turns over time. We experience this when we feel fresh grief on a deceased loved one’s birthday. Or when we notice an empty place at the table at a holiday dinner. We have all known people whose mourning re-opens fully on the anniversary of a loved one’s death.
When I was a little girl, I wondered why my grandmother always wore black. As I grew up, I learned that her black attire was a reminder that she was mourning the death of my grandfather. She wore black for years, and in that way, made mourning a part of her life. We may think that this was not a healthy behavior for her. But perhaps it was more real than just moving on with life and putting her husband’s death out of her mind. Remembering every day when she dressed was her way of mourning a profound loss.
Grief and mourning don’t just show up for us after a tragedy and then instantly go away after the tragedy is over. There are some tragedies, in fact, that are never over, and grief and mourning are a part of our lives every day, as we mourn losses of all kinds. It helps to expect to grieve at the loss of a job, or a retirement, or through the reality of a chronic illness, or after moving away from friends. It helps to accept the fact that we all grieve our losses, and that we do it again and again. But underneath our grief is an everlasting hope that gives us strength through it all.
. . . We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters,about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
1 Thessalonians 4:13
When we realize and accept mourning as a very real part of our lives, we will learn to mourn well and grieve appropriately. I love this simple prayer from The High Calling:
Lord, teach me to grieve, but with hope. Help me to mourn in the mysterious joy of your presence. Amen.
A beautiful young woman, Rosa, posted this memory on Facebook. When she was a young teenager, she participated in the Safe Places leadership program, which culminated in The Cinderella Ball. Like all of us, she remembers what an enchanted evening it was. These are her words:
This is how it all began . . . Once upon a time . . . ! This definitely made my night completely and brought so many memories! Thanks to Mrs.Kathy we had Safe Places; we were given the privilege to experience for ourselves that we were true princesses & had our night to shine at the Cinderella Ball!
Try as we might, we cannot live on memories. But we can be strengthened by them, and allow them to remind us of good times. I have to hope that the forty girls who were a part of the princess leadership program, and later presented at The Cinderella Ball, will take the lessons they learned from the summer program into their lives. I hope that their night of feeling like a princess at a grand ball will translate into a positive self-image that will forever remind them of their worth.
I look back with regret that the program could not continue, that we could not reach hundreds of girls. But that was not to be, and I have to rest on the fact that we did reach, over four years, at least forty of them whose lives were changed by the experience. The lesson for me is that you help the one person you encounter, and don’t despair that you couldn’t do more. That one person, like Rosa, may remember fondly what you did to enrich her life.
The Program? Well, it wasn’t about the prince. It was about young girls finding their own self-worth and learning to make a positive impact on their world. In the following brief video you will see them spending time teaching and leading at a local daycare center. Please watch The Cinderella Ball video and meet Rosa, and the other young girls in the program:
I read a wise saying recently: “Don’t start your day with the broken pieces of yesterday.”
What a great piece of advice for those of us who tend to carry around broken pieces in the form of regrets, feelings of failure, guilt, or any number of negative emotions. Bringing those emotions with us to a new day doesn’t give the day a fair chance to be a good one.
The quote goes on to say this:
Every day is a fresh start. Each day is a new beginning. Every morning we wake up to the first day of our new life.
I hang onto that bit of wisdom on those days that I start to regret lost hopes and unfulfilled dreams. This week, I was reminded of the anniversary of a very successful time at Safe Places, my nonprofit organization that served victims of violence. I had several memories about the work, about the people we helped, about my staff. But had a choice at that point. I could look back with regret that so many dreams were lost with the closing of Safe Places. Or I could look at over ten years of success in the lives of those we were able to help.
It just so happens that one of our former clients was featured on National talk radio yesterday where she told her horrific story that is just now getting its happy ending. My client carried around broken pieces for over seven years, but for her, yesterday was a fresh start, a new beginning filled with new hopes and dreams for the future. I am learning a lesson from her, and laying down a bag full of broken pieces right here on this road. Then I will continue on my brand new journey. New hope and fresh dreams ahead!
God of the Sparrow 🌱 By Kathy Manis Findley 