Of prickles, pain and portals….

Sometimes into life’s overwhelm come soft days so thick with grace it seems the volume gets turned up on your joy and drowns out some prickle, shaking dance back into tired feet ’til your heart starts taking on hope as heaven storms down light so fierce that it swallows up the dark. When you’re not…

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again with the hope….

There’s a fierce little word fluttering around in my heart and I want to bring it to you like a gift I’d leave at your door in an old blue bottle that I bought  for a dime, washed of decades of dust and disappointment, and filled with fresh water and a single surprising flower whispering one single…

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