I’ve been a little weary with swelter
so I picked a little bouquet  from my archives,
with hope that maybe sharing will helps stir our strength to singing.

I believe in seeds and sanctuary,
hot baths and cool breeze,
in seasons and stories
and music and farming
and angels and acorns
and options and dreams.

In starshine and moonglow
and coffee and compost
and Christmastime magic
and moms and dads
and the reckless mercy of a loving God.

I believe in pruning and dancing,
in vineyards and wine,
in fresh plenty grace
even when it feels like I’m sucking it
through a tiny thin straw
and in slowing down and losing the rush
(which seems to stretch the straw wide again)

I believe in real hope,
that it’s just about stronger than anything
and that false hope is strong,  too,
but without the power to really change things.
I believe in desert
and in beauty
…that it isn’t the same as pretty.

I believe we’re born with our art inside us,
that we come alive as we let it out

and that resting is stronger than striving,
that clotheslines make life smell better
and that there is truth that is brighter than day.

I believe in twinkle lights and naps
and rainy day rhythm,
in loving wildlife and killing mosquitoes
and that praise springs in vivid color and motion
from every growing thing,
whirling and twirling with wild affection
for a creator who is indescribably good.

I believe in the smell of baby skin and puppy breath,
of fresh turned soil and pie in the oven,
that there is a peace that can override circumstances,
a love that never fails,
and that impossibles happen often
and without fanfare.

And in you,  dearheart,
that we’ll be okay
and thrive together
no matter whatever.

“Most people don’t know there are angels
whose only job
is to make sure you don’t get too comfortable
and fall asleep and miss your life.”

-Brian Andreas