a prophetic voice-

Life has been very ordinary lately...nothing exciting, nothing to pull me out of my everyday patterns...nothing to astound or astonish... just the same-old, same-old. And yet...when leaving for the medical center early the other morning to be with a parishioner prior to her surgery, I saw the palest white sliver of the new moon shining in the eastern sky. And yet...I received photos from my dear friends in Rwanda, taken at their graduation from their Master's program at the University in Kigali, along with loving words of thanks for the small (my word, not theirs) part I had played in this wonderful accomplishment. And yet...I talked with two hard-working painters at our church, both doing a lovely job of painting the sanctuary, obviously proud of their work and taking special care with it, admiring our centuries- old building. And yet...I received two puzzles in the mail from my sister- jigsaw puzzles to "feed" my newly-reacquired appetite for them. And y...

Glorious. There's no other word for the weather of the past two  days  here  in my little corner of the world. Sunshine, blue skies,  low humidity,  comfortable temperatures...and this morning, a  memorably beautiful  sunrise, the sky alight with pinks and blues,  with light and shadow of th e sort to drive any artist to her canvas,  knowing that capturing this  spectacle with  brushstrokes would  likely be impossible. As I sit here on my screened porch, I am surrounded by the  music of  birdsong, by the persistent scritch of cicadas, by the  whisper of an  occasional breeze though the trees, and I am  virtually overcome with  a sense of well-being, of joy, of gratitude  for this very ordinary day of  my life. With book in hand, here I  sit, sometimes reading, sometimes  simply being...listening... absorbing the peace and loveliness of this July afternoon. Lif...

Brilliant sunlight floods my room bursting through the shutters limning strips of light across the rainbow stripes of my quilt At my elbow the radio emits strains of a Mahler quartet as I savor the last delectable drops of my morning cocoa Breath flows blessedly through a throat made raw by harsh coughing though now less frequent less chest-wracking more free Holy Saturday- but isn't every Saturday every day of life holy? filled as it is with momets of light and music cocoa and blessed breath?