Rusty pines stretch high over the lake under the finally-blue, afternoon sky. Those towering trees have a Story to tell as they clap their hands in praise. Through breaks in their branches cobalt blue races to the shoreline, pushed by a Force outside of itself -- a rhythmic lullaby of rejoicing. That Force, that Story -- they are also in me. So I, too, sing a song of thanksgiving: For the breath in my lungs, the words flowing from my fingertips, the Truth that I am enough. For the beat of my heart, the laughter leaking from my insides, the Trust that I am loved. Thank You. Amen and amen.
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September 2020
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