|FOR each ecstatic instant|
|We must an anguish pay|
|In keen and quivering ratio|
|To the ecstasy. . . .|
I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Yea, on the glancing wing of eager birds, the softly pattering feet of furred and gentle beasts. I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Not borne on the morning's wings of majesty, but I have set My feet amidst the delicate and bladed wheat. I come in the little things, Saith the Lord.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
I attended a friend's mother's funeral this week. I had visited Mary several times over the past few months while she was in an Assisted Care facility and am very sad to lose our budding friendship. November is when I, too, lost my mother 20 years ago.
November is a month of transition in nature--when the living is juxtaposed with the dying.
The "little things" can quite escape you when your mind is occupied elsewhere. Our first sunshine this week, however, beckoned me to bundle up and go outside. Camera in hand, Gabriel and I went to capture the little things.....like fallen autumn leaves trapped amongst the colorful berries. . . .