Thunder rolls overhead on this blustery morning. Heaven's churning, it seems. Holy Week is like that to me through the years. Labor pains that give birth to something beautiful and altogether lovely. New life doesn't slip into our laps effortlessly; it always comes at a price. We remember the costly sacrifice with fresh understanding when we take the time.
My writing has been prayerfully invested in another place recently. I share a word with you and invite you to join me there if you will.
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/cindylipscomb/journal
We bear one another's burdens.
I invite my friends in Moscow, in Belgrade, Serbia, in Portugal, and other far-flung homes join in unity of the Spirit for praising God and seeking His face in the case of one who would ask if she could.
with thanksgiving,
Marita
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