And I’m not going to church. Instead, I’m up early watching the sun rise. As I walked with the dogs earlier, we stood a moment and looked at the almost full moon in the west, clear and bright in the sky. I feel like I sometimes carry “church” with me, a sense of awe and gratitude for a life I did not create and that I cannot always control. I send my wishes and dreams out to the universe, which often answers in surprising and wonderful ways. I require little to make me happy: hot coffee after a cold morning walk, beautiful music to help the sun crest the pine trees (this morning it’s Nick Drake who just popped out at me as I scanned iTunes), love of family and friends. I see the poetry around me, and long to find the perfect metaphor, one that takes the breath away, one that captures the essence of what lives in y heart. But, I am no poet and must be contented with these fragile words.
Happy Easter!
