“The river” is a thing, but always in motion. So never really the same. It couldn’t be “the river” without its unmoving bed.
Hours earlier, these droplets formed out of the morning mist. Settled here, they endow even greater beauty to an already beautiful image of God’s presence in nature’s cathedral. On this altar, these droplets are separate, yet from and of the same substance. The same essence. They will, hours from now, be transformed, imperceptibly, still theContinue reading “Angels In the Mist”
No one is transformed by thinking. It is our nature to *relate*, not contain.
Love is not a noun. Nor a goal. Love is creating. Uniquely.