Some days we need a benediction.
Proclaiming who He is and what He does.
Anchoring hearts.
Stabilizing steps.
Resting weary souls.
Yes, some days we need a benediction.
Some days we need a benediction.
Proclaiming who He is and what He does.
Anchoring hearts.
Stabilizing steps.
Resting weary souls.
Yes, some days we need a benediction.
Refuge. In the tropical afternoons of my childhood.
I’m sitting on soft dirt. Amid twisted roots. Under a canopy of thick, intertwined bougainvillea branches growing by the backyard fence.
Shelter. From unrelenting sun.
Shade. For afternoon play with plastic teacups and bowls. A plentiful supply of leaves and blossoms within reach.
The secret place where I can rest. And just be.
Morning exercise at sunrise. Walking at a fast clip, tuned in to a podcast. Suddenly, there it is. Fragrance.
Distinct. Sweet. I don’t even have to look.
Honeysuckle.
Stopping, I turn and see. Down the the slope. A riot of honeysuckle blooms. Taking over the thicket.