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Blue sky, white…

by davesandel on August 23rd, 2011

Blue sky, white flower, did she pick that in a national park?  Did it grow in the wild?  Did she plant it in her convent garden?

Holding the cross of Jesus without regard for balance, just in the crook of her hand between her thumb and forefinger – how can she hold all that flower of white life and cross of death in such a tiny part of her hand, her body?

Very delicate hands, she has.  Manicured fingernails.  Wonderful, warm brown eyes.  Pursed lips.  Held tightly shut so she can listen.  Head cocked to one side.  What is she looking at?  What is she listening to?

Her Bible sits at times in the pulpit.  It is heavy and will stay open to whatever page she turns.  Where is she taking it now?  Where was she taking it from?

I would like to spend time in this girl’s presence.  I think I would feel God’s presence when I am with her.  She is tall and strong and well-equipped to carry others toward the throne room of her Lord.


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