“My heart bursts its banks,
spilling beauty and goodness.
I pour it out in a poem to the King,
shaping the river into words.”
— Ps. 45:1 (The Message)
This is my heart,
bursting its banks this weekend.
We play dress-up, finding bits of history to wear on our backs.
A Southern belle, a bonneted prairie girl and me, having found — at last — the occasion to wear Grandma Taylor’s hat.
“Your servants’ children will have a good place to live
and their children will be at home with you.”
— Ps. 102:28 (The Message)
, gun on his shoulder, never missed marching in a Fourth of July parade. Why should this day be any different?
Paul Lee missed our parade this year, but he surely marched to freedom’s beat on Golden Streets.
Fruits of the harvest (our family’s homemade soy snack) tossed from a neighbor’s parade float.
We sit in lawn chairs and worship here, by a flatbed trailer parked at river’s edge.
The Spirit rests on Chris (of Experiencing Grace and Peace
). Chris delivered a Sunday message of hope and freedom that unshackles souls. (An eagle soared behind him as he spoke.)
Daughter, making rings from blades of grass.
“… As for man, his days are like grass. …
But from everlasting to everlasting
the LORD’s love is with those who fear him.”
— Ps. 103:15, 17