The Shadow Holds Me.
Roots drink quiet. Light finds me there.
The oak drinks in the sunlight, wind, and rain, to become its strongest self.
Today comes the storm to strengthen your child, Lord. I will walk upright under your skies, go the way you point, pass on what you whisper to me, offer cheer and succor to my fellows, carry neighbors' burdens with my sturdy back.
You built me for purpose, made for times such as these.
Every pass of the plane counts.
Even sanding is a prayer.
While I live, let me thus live.
Consider:
How can I live more gently today?
Words to Carry:
“Now that I have come to the edge, I see it was only a beginning.” — David Whyte