immy felt a sort of power coming from above. I don’t know what that is. He put his hand to his heart and sat back on the hay. Ever so slowly, his eyes were drawn to the ancient beam that connected one side of the barn to the other. Sitting on the beam directly above the manger was the old barn owl. The heart-shaped white face and the piercing black eyes were looking directly at Jimmy. Time passed, but neither creature dared to move.
Darkness, blinded by the very light it is designed to keep out.
How ironic that the blinds actually cast the Light.
Even more ironic when the Light is so bright it blinds.
Isn’t that how Grace works too?
We live in four seasons. The calendar marks the days, but the seasons put a mark on our hearts. Acutely aware of the passing time, seasons forge their own path in their own time, which then becomes our time. We don’t choose the timing or the path, but we are full participants in both.
Close to home, far away, news comes calling, passed away. Feel the pain, start to pray, Mind is racin’, snatched away.