The sun rises in the eastern sky
on this morning that anchors my faith.
I remember the terrible things—and there are many.
I hold them up to the light and they are washed in Love.
Love and light; my risen Lord.
I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
He is risen indeed!