The Music of Summer Long Ago
We were young, still untouched by anything heavier than the heat…
We were young, still untouched by anything heavier than the heat…
A handwritten note. Phone call. Text message. A cup of coffee shared between friends. These are not trivial gestures…
Morning arrives on a hush, like velvet across the skin, settling over the earth…
“When the assignment becomes an altar, your work becomes worship.” Every task can be holy when it’s done unto the Lord…
She whispered, “It’s worth it when a child sees beauty in your dirt-stained labor…
Memorial Day, a time to remember not just the names—but the lives…
Now, in this alley with danger she thought about those thistles, her father’s words…
She came alone to honor Him in death. Her grief, a mix of sorrow and reverence…
Beautiful. Unique. An iris transformed from the inside out. It tells a story about grace.