Beauty

The Creek

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

There is a little hollow with a bubbly creek running through it. You can find it if you listen.

A lovely jaunt through some meadow grasses will get you there.

The gentle willow trees sway and beckon, “Come, and sit a while.”

The only sounds are nature’s chatter and the swish of grasses and wildflower stems as they rustle against booted feet making their way to the water.

A slight dip in the path and you are there.

The gurgling creek splashes happily over some stones and fallen, decaying branches. The rivulets and tiny waterfalls rush and dash through the haphazard obstacle course.

On the opposite side of the creek the paws of the early risers have left their unique imprints. The routine of it is calming to consider.

The bank of the creek is dotted with a variety of wildflowers, all adding their color and charm to the hollow. Small yellow flowers on their tall, leggy stems seem to love the chaos of the breeze that randomly tosses them about. The purple-y blue flowers growing close to the ground create a lovely and fragrant carpet. Bold white flowers lift their faces upward to the patches of sun filtering through the drooping willow branches.

Downstream the water has slowed and taken on a lazy pace. Widening into a small pool that flows gently around the roots of an old tree, one wonders what creek dwellers make this restful pool their home.

At the edge, tiny fish dart in and out of watery shadows and the quick Boatman skip atop the quiet water. The grumpy, red-orange crawdad silently waits under a ledge of roots, motionless and spying.

Little plip-plop sounds come from the far edge of the pool – small frogs perhaps?

The tranquility of nature with its calming rhythms of sound, light and timeless order soothe and quiet a restless soul. The pull of it is ancient and constant.

Accepting the willow trees’ invitation to sit for a while, the weight of all you have been carrying lifts and floats – up, up to One who gives rest and peace. He is there in the light that sifts through the branches giving warmth and safety.  He can be found in the cooling breezes that kiss and skim the skin. The Divine whispers and sings all around you, as He leads you beside the still waters and restores your soul.

Summer Night

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The heat of the day is waning. A light breeze picks up in the late afternoon; its drowsy fingers shushing and weaving through the grasses, trees, and flowers. To the West, the sun begins its descent. It defiantly streaks and stains the blue of the sky with bright oranges and hues of pink as it gives way to the rising half-moon.

One can feel nature slow, sigh and release the energy of day into the quiet mystery of night. Birds make one last flight through the garden, snipping up gnats and other nighttime insects. They light on the bird baths for their last bath and sip of the evening before heading to their nests to cozy down. Safe and snug they await dawn to begin again their songs, flights and feeding.

As the moon rises higher in the darkening sky it is joined by planets and pinprick stars. Some are still quite faint as they wait their turn to burn bright in the night sky when the sun’s afterglow is finished.

As darkness deepens, night-dwellers emerge and begin rustling and creeping through the bushes and grasses, as their time to rise and go about their business has arrived. In the cover of darkness all may seem still and at rest, but it’s not. The business of nighttime is full, robust, and busy. Tiny garden mice gather and feast on the seeds the raucous birds have scattered in their feeding throughout the day.  Their nests are deep underneath the stately ferns and spreading Catmint, giving them excellent cover from the neighborhood cats that hunt and prowl. The cats are part of the night hunters as they stealthily slip between the Lavender, Guara and Sage spying and waiting for an unsuspecting meal.

Fully dark now, the symphony of crickets begins in earnest. It starts with one lone, chirping buzz and is joined by others who’ve been waiting for nightfall to begin their serenade. The crickets are soon accompanied by myriad tree frogs that inhabit the nearby marshy, open space. It becomes a stage for their croaking and singing. The songs are repetitive and peaceful, allowing the mind to disengage and just be.   

Sailing above in a carpet of stars, planets and zig zagging satellites, the half-moon is bright, cold, and austere.  The simplicity of the light and the cold shine of the moonglow quiets and soothes, gentling away the worries and stress of the day. Deep and peaceful.

Nighttime brings with it a sense of mystery and supernatural portent. Sight cannot be relied upon in the dark. Other senses move to the forefront and must decipher the unseen sounds and goings-on of the night. Discernment is heightened – the soul is what sees and hears.

You are there in the nighttime rustle of the tall grasses as Your voice whispers in the breeze – rest and peace are near. You cause the stars to sing their cold melodies as they shine down, the puzzle pieces of their scattering giving direction to the traveler and hope for the lost. Your breath is in the rustling, swooping feathers, and haunting sound of the owl’s call, as it glides unseen through the dark, cool night. You are always near, the Maestro conducting and guiding all of creation in the symphony of life. There is nowhere I can go, where You are not.

Your masterpiece of creation in the still, yet busy nighttime is just as lovely, complex, and healing as in the light of day. There is deep healing, peace, and safety in the dark. It requires us to see and hear with our souls and follow Your whispers and songs, as deep calls to deep and You call us into Your marvelous Light.  

Weakness

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The sun hasn’t been up for long. I’m sitting in my favorite spot with my coffee, of course. I am feeling out of sorts and restless this morning. The patio and garden are cool and lovely with early birds and critters stopping in for breakfast. I know there is peace to be found here, but it’s elusive. Things are weighing on my heart and circumstances happening that leave me feeling feeble, chaotic, and uncertain. Those are not feelings I like, nor do I want them hanging around making me feel out of control and incapable.

My mind is trying to process and organize all these things – trying to fix them because I fancy myself a fixer. As I’m sitting, a breeze picks up and tosses some leaves and spent blooms around the garden. I notice that they are at the mercy of the breeze. It isn’t a wild and insane storm; it is simply a breeze that is stronger than the blooms – the blooms are weaker than the breeze. Pondering this, remembered words pop into my mind…my strength comes into its own in your weakness.

Weakness. This isn’t a word most of us want associated with ourselves. However, strength needs weakness.  When we are at the end of ourselves and knowing how to fix and manage the thing, this is when Jesus has room to come in with His power, strength, wisdom, and compassion to protect, fix, and do miraculous things. I don’t believe He views our weaknesses as something to look down on or shake His head at; I believe He views our weaknesses as beautiful opportunities to shower us with His grace, love, and protection and to impart His perfect strength into us and our circumstances. He shows us glimpses of the future as He opens and closes doors, the foreshadowing of eternity and of Himself as we have a front row seat to watch Him do the impossible and comfort and heal us when life doesn’t turn out how we had prayed it would.

It’s good to remember that He is the Master Weaver of our life tapestry. He sees the beginning, middle and end. He sees where our lives will intersect with another’s journey.  Perhaps the unique and specific strengths He has given us will be exactly what is needed to help someone who finds themselves in a place of weakness, where our strength is perfectly matched to their circumstances. 

Weakness doesn’t have to hold a negative connotation. It has much more depth than that. Perhaps it has a richness to it that speaks to humanity needing each other to get through life and to witness acts of kindness and heroics since we are all unique in our strengths. In another’s weakness we get the beautiful opportunity to be His hands, feet, words, and comfort. We also get to be on the receiving end of another’s strength. The tapestry of humanity is a lovely thing  that intersects and strengthens as we witness startling acts of bravery and kindness; a chance to bring hope. There is beauty to be found in weakness.

The Country Chapel

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The weathered white wood of the simple spire comes into view as I crest the gentle hill.

The narrow dirt road leading to the country chapel is overgrown with tufts of sturdy grasses and haphazard rocks. It’s rutted and a bit uneven from so many years of weather, shoes and tires making their way to church.

The land around the chapel is wild and untamed. Nature has reclaimed this place and surrounded it with beauty, as if cradling the abandoned chapel in lovely colors and peace, so much peace.  It feels protected and safe. The Creator is here.

Tall, wispy flowers and assorted meadow grasses bend and sway as a light breeze sighs through, bringing movement and faint whisperings of years gone by.

An old pine tree rises up just behind and to the right of the old chapel. The branches are thick and heavy with a few quirky curves to its old trunk. The old tree has seen and heard so much life, death, joy, and sorrow. The tattered remnants of a rope swing sway and shift with the breeze. Visions of ponytails sailing out behind the swinger with shrieks of joy as the swing takes its rider higher and higher! Freedom!

Looking up, I see leaves, sticks and a piece of bright red yarn entwined and fashioned into a sturdy nest settled into the crook of a branch. Humanity may have abandoned this country chapel, but nature still finds shelter and a home here.

Taking a seat on a weathered stone bench under the tree, I imagine these pine branches shading long tables of cold, homemade lemonade, tasty potluck dishes and desserts on a warm Sunday afternoon, as congregants share a meal and life together.  If I listen closely, I hear muted laughter and the sharing of gossip and recipes passed down through the years. Those family recipes will make an appearance at every potluck gathering. Belonging.

Becoming more accustomed to the sounds of silence, I hear bird song and buzzing bugs along with the creak and groan of the old pine settling and shifting with the breeze and old age. A fluffy, grey squirrel spies on me as it chatters and flicks its tail. One could sit here all day letting the imagination and nostalgia go where they will…

I make my way to the offset wooden steps of the chapel that creak and shift under my feet. The wooden door’s paint is peeling, and the bottom has been gnawed and scratched by a creature seeking shelter.

Inside the chapel the hush and silence are palpable. High windows are covered in dust and streaks with a few broken and missing panes, but the light that streams in is lovely and warm – like an invitation to come and rest.

There are ten rows of off-kilter pews on each side of the chapel with a few missing or cracked in places. A tattered red-leather hymnal lies on the edge of one. Some of the pages have been nibbled off and perhaps taken as bedding for a small creature that found safety here.

As I move forward between the rows, I notice one pew has initials carved into the wood, KC was here. Another has a stick horse and flowers etched into it. Lorraine loves James is written in orange pen on the back of one with some little hearts surrounding the words. Life was lived here.

The altar is simple and pure on its raised-up flooring. It appears to be handmade and sturdy. It’s beautiful. Echoes of sermons, wedding vows and funeral memorials whisper and float on the still, dust-moted air. The chapel may be abandoned but it’s holy and alive with memories.

I sit for a bit in the front pew and allow the peace, mystery, and silence of this old chapel to speak and heal. It does. The supernatural is afoot. It can be felt in the slight shiver that pricks the back of the neck and dances along the spine. There is no room for fear here; it’s lovely, divine, and healing. Beautiful.

The light begins to shift as the day moves on and I head to the side door leading out to the left. It’s loose on the rusty hinges and makes a squeaking noise as I push it open and go out.

A lopsided picnic bench sits in the shade of an old, gnarled cherry tree. The legs hidden by the meadow grasses – the keepers of this place.  Sitting in the shade, I take in the weathered boards, streaked windows and lonely cross that sits atop the small spire of this country chapel. I’m struck with the thought that the Father met with his beloved within those walls. He healed, loved, and wept with them. He rejoiced, danced, and comforted them. The sacred holiness of that still permeates and flits within those abandoned walls. But we mustn’t try to contain Him inside physical walls, exclusivity, strict rules, or joyless routine. No! He is found under the gnarled old tree where someone sat pouring out their deepest heart wounds and pain. He heard every word, healed, and exchanged the pain for joy and peace. He did this as the birds sang, wildflowers soothed with their beauty and the breeze took the prayers and cries tossing them up into His ever-open hands to receive, heal and restore. He isn’t tame, safe, or containable. His love is fierce, wild, joy-filled and all consuming. He can be found within the walls of a sweet country chapel, but just as often I find Him in the wild places with dancing wildflowers, leafy trees, creatures, and breathtaking beauty.

My time here is complete. So many lessons learned from the old and abandoned. This country chapel with its divine murmurs and lonely beauty spoke volumes to me as I sat in the memories, nostalgia and quiet. This old chapel and the nature that cradles and shelters it healed, comforted, and spoke to my soul in ways a spoken word never could. Divine whispers float and swirl all around us – may we have the ears to hear it and hearts to discern it.

The Singing Heart

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Open space and room to breathe – some isolation really.

It’s calling out and my heart hears it – craving, simmering, and stirring.

A quiet place that will nurture, cradle, and hum the songs of nature, the songs of peace.

A lovely, forest-y, meadow path. Peace.

It takes a moment to shed the world as my feet take those first steps.

Social media vies for my attention hovering in the background. Did that recent post get likes or shares? A snarky comment or minimizing remarks? A book sale?

“Breathe,” whispers the spritely breeze.

“Look,” sing the serene trees.

“Just let it go,” shout the bright meadow flowers.

Squirrels and fussing birds dart and flit about their business. Purpose.

The pine-scent that soothes and calms permeates the slightly chilled air – breathe in and out deeply, and fully. Remember.

The silence of the forest and busyness of the meadow are a beautiful chaotic contrast – thrilling, healing and peaceful all at once. Lovely chaos that is joyful, primal, and ancient. Soothing and safe.

Senses are awakened from the hidden place where society often relegates them down to a murmur, a fleeting glimpse, perhaps a burden.

I belong to the elements where senses are welcomed and sights, sounds, scents, and textures are pure. I could be part meadow fairy or tree sprite…

This coming home lifts my spirits, as the tight-fisted clenching of muscles, mind and identity loosen and fall away.

The healing power of nature, the elements and life in the quiet places is spiritual, miraculous, and mysterious. 

Divine whispers surround, swirl and permeate the soul, spirit, and heart bringing pure delight, unfettered joy, and such hope.

As I drink it in, scraping off the expectations, demands and “shoulds” that cling to my heart, I feel a melody pumping through my veins.

A release and crescendo beating in time to the songs of nature and the quiet places lovingly woven by the Creator.

Healing, belonging and peace flood in to fuel the song, seal in my mind’s eye and heart memory the wonder and serenity of this less traveled road to peace.

My heart singing to the rhythms of Creation.

Backroads and Quiet Places

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Maybe it’s something we do as we grow older or perhaps it’s just me. In this second half of my life there’s an urgency, not full of panic and fear, but an urgency I feel thrumming in my mind, spirit, and body to fine tune, declutter and make a wide-open space for peace.

Those things that once consumed my thoughts, to-do lists, and vacation plans are beginning to fall by the wayside taking a back seat to peace. Vacations full of fast-paced and exciting adventures don’t hold the same attraction they once did. When I honestly name how I want to spend my time my thoughts drift to backroads and quiet places.

Exploring small towns at a slower pace with opportunities to see natural beauty, experience the quiet of a backroad, a hike, a cabin retreat in the forest, a day at a quiet beach, a picnic at the duck pond, sitting around a campfire, or exploring quaint downtown shops at a leisurely pace – this brings me joy and happiness. I want to seek out ways to saturate myself with peace in those backroads and quiet places. To be a “good” tired at the end of a day spent simmering in joy and peace, is what I crave.

In this season of life, I’m working on choosing myself as a priority; choosing who and what stays or goes. I don’t want to make space for unnecessary drama, strife, and people-pleasing. It will always be there demanding attention, and sometimes I will have to give it a bit, however I get to decide how long I will allow, if at all, these unwelcome things to take up time and become unhealthy distractions.

Perhaps the urgency can be described as longing for a gentleness that covers and quiets me soothing wounds and hurts, and loosening memories and frustrations so I can let them go. I hear it in the Whispers of the One who sees every bit of me; the One who knows every thought, intention and understands all the whys, even when I don’t. I want to trust that He has me and will handle those things that want to rob me of peace and a calm spirit. His whisper breaks the chains of lies shouting that boundaries are selfish and ungodly. I’m a priority to Him. I’m wrapped up in heavenly wings, songs, and delight. I can put down those things that steal life, gratitude, and peace. I’m invited to rest in Him as He opens up backroads and quiet places sprinkled and seasoned with His peace.  “He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19

Hallowed

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To make holy; consecrated.

To me, the word hallowed evokes a mysterious and magical feeling. Visions swirl in my mind of sacred, lovely light, and silence – a sense of something in the atmosphere that crackles with divine prophesy. Holy ground, a place where angels and heavenly beings tread.

In my limited understanding of all things Divine, these images and feelings are evoked by the knowledge that a place deemed hallowed has been consecrated and made holy by the divine presence of God. His actual presence in a place.

Imagine a quiet neighborhood in the early morning hours, still sleepy from a night of peaceful rest. A man and his dog venture out for their morning constitutional. The beauty of the morning, the sleepy quiet of the houses as they walk, and the cool feel of the air on his skin brings a smile to his face and a lightness to his steps. There are some heavy things weighing on him and this lovely morning soothes his spirit and invites conversation with the Creator. As he spills his fears and concerns to his Father, he is enveloped in such peace; peace that shouldn’t be there in light of his circumstances and worry yet it is. The Father soothes, calms, and speaks provision and safety into his tired soul. Hallowed.

There is the woman on her bike, following the paved path through the city on her way to work. The busy street, impatient drivers, and slow-moving pedestrians blur as she frets over the presentation she will be giving to new clients, in a few hours. Is she prepared? Did she remember to hit all the important points? Will what she says make sense? As her mind tosses and panic tries to surface, she lifts up a quick prayer asking for wisdom, clarity, and courage. As she pedals, her thoughts come together more clearly as she is reminded of the hard work she put into this, the success she’s had in the past, and that she is enough and deeply loved. Her worries dim and fade. Excitement replaces fear as her tense shoulders and insides relax. The Lord is with her, she can do this. Hallowed.

A long day of hiking and rafting is complete. Night is falling in the campground. The campfire dances and sparks, giving off a warm, happy glow. As s’more fixings are passed between them, the older couple settles into their camp chairs to relax and unwind before heading to bed.  This is their favorite way to vacation. The peace of the Redwoods falls about them, filling them with a sense of belonging and joy. They find peace in nature. It restores them like nothing else. As they sit listening to the forest wind down for the night, lost in their thoughts, a comforting and mysterious feeling of being wrapped up and carefully tended to fill their souls. They know they are in the presence of the Holy One. Their little campground in the Redwoods is hallowed ground. The Creator is everywhere, whispering peace in the wind sighing through the tree branches, singing provision as His creatures scout and find nourishment in the nooks and crannies of the forest floor, and speaking joy into this journey of life in the snapping and crackling of the campfire. Hallowed ground.

Wherever life takes you today, I believe you will have myriad opportunities to be in the presence of the Divine; to walk, lie, and sit on hallowed ground as the Father whispers and shouts His love, protection, and presence. He is everywhere and Divine appointments are waiting for you.

Book Giveaway – Goodreads

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Hi everyone,

I wanted to let you know that I’m holding a giveaway for the paperback version of Divine Encounters… on Goodreads. If you haven’t checked it out, it is a great place to connect with other authors, readers, book lovers! My giveaway begins tomorrow April 21st and runs through May 20th.

To enter, go to Goodreads.com and click on Browse from the drop down menu, click Giveaways and you will able to search for Divine Encounters… and enter to win!

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22786268.Melissa_Giomi

Best of luck and please feel free to share the giveaway!

Cheers!

Melissa

The Ember

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

It’s always been there, carefully placed as you were sung into existence in the silence and holiness of the Creator’s workplace.

Attention, such detailed, undivided attention given to you as all your lovely parts, pieces and quirks were formed, shaped, and worked into His masterpiece.

Chance, random chaos has no place here.

Cherubim wings flutter and sigh as the ember is plucked from the coals in the Most Holy Place.

Selected with forethought and care, the ember is tucked gently into your soul. His breath fans it into a small but steady flame. Heaven watches as it grows and twists, snugly fitting into the place created for it.

Nothing by accident.

This ember is precious. The Father gently and purposefully tends to it night and day, minute by minute. Divine whispers – deep calls to deep.

A tapestry of life and divine appointments are woven and entwined all around and about you with the sole purpose of fanning this ember with Holy breath – encounters with angels and fellow humans with beautiful burning embers, not unlike your own.

The soul ember is designed with a divine connection to the Father; a constant soul-longing for divine encounters, conversations and simply Him. His presence, His breath, His gaze is always enough and more than enough.

It can dim, this ember of yours, seeming to barely flicker as circumstances and other humans vie for that place in your soul. It can feel lonely and grim.

What fans the ember back into brilliance and strength is time with the Creator, the one whose breath and love prophesied and sang over you and called you from what wasn’t into one fashioned in His image.

You can find Him everywhere. He is among the Redwoods as you breathe in the scent of old growth or along the beach as relentless waves take fear and worry away with each ebb and flow of the tide. He is found in the mundane tasks of living, sipping warm coffee, or laughing with a dear friend.

How close He is to you. Listen and you will hear His whispers and songs. Simply seek Him and wait with expectation. Your soul ember constantly searches for that divine connection with Him. It knows where to find Him for a beautiful rekindling of the flame.

Memories

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

All is quiet this morning in the forest and meadow surrounding the cabin. A gentle breath of wind shushes through the meadow grasses and whispers through the pine branches.

Pinks and orangey yellow streaks are breaking just above the treetops announcing that the sun is on its way. Nature’s alarm clock. Soon the morning creatures will stir, scout, and begin their breakfast journeys.

Warming pine and that distinctive mountain scent wafts and swirls in the chill morning air, reminding me of long-ago summer mornings at a favorite campground in the mountains. I can see, hear, and smell it all in my mind – the bossy scrub jays shouting and squawking as they flit from tree to tree, cocking an alert black eye at the wooden table in case some of the breakfast fixings tumble off. The smokey scent of the testy, cold campfire that fights to get going again in the morning, reminds me of my dad who would mess with it until it was hot and roaring, so we could toast crescent rolls on a stick over the fire.

My steamy coffee warms my chilled hands, as I sit on the deck overlooking the drowsy meadow. The sun is higher now and beautiful streaks of sunlight boldly push through the tree branches. The rays of light are ethereal and sacred; the Creator at work bringing beauty to the morning. The way the light beams fall on the meadow and through the trees reminds me of times spent hiking – just He and I – where hurts and wounds were poured out in raw honesty as Truth and Healing flooded in to soothe, heal, and mend what was broken. Divine encounters.

Breakfast accompanies me to the deck. The homey scent of pancakes, bacon, and coffee mingling with the scent of pine, sparks a memory of my grandma making breakfast on a Saturday morning. The scent of pine trees was always present and is a treasured undercurrent to my memories of her. How happy and exciting it felt to be in her home, surrounded by woods, good food and the squirrels’ feet pattering across the roof. Safe. Home. Content.

The sun is making its way across the sky, so it’s time for a hike to the lake to see who is stirring and fussing about this morning. Always an adventure!

The strewn pine needles are soft and comfy underfoot. Cracks and twig-snaps along the edges of the trail accompany me as I make my way along the well-worn path.  The rustling and murmurs of the woods is comforting and peaceful. Nature is quiet, but it’s not. Calm and restful, yet busy and purposeful as birds and watchful animals go about their business.

The lake will peek into view around this next bend in the path. The familiarity invites a feeling of nostalgia – wistful happiness with a tinge melancholy that doesn’t want to be overlooked and dismissed – wishing that time would stop so the safety and peace of the memories would live on and on, drowning out the stress, noise and unknown of what’s ahead.

There it is – the lake! Life is in full swing here with ducks and geese gliding along the smooth water, snipping at bugs, and nibbling on grasses along the shore. Their contented chuckles and fussing drift over the water as they chat over their breakfast.

A creature rambling through the reeds searching for a snack makes slippery, muddy sounds along the bank near an ancient tree. A long-abandoned rope swing, frayed, tattered and limp tosses meekly in the light breeze that’s beginning to ruffle the water.

Sitting under the shady branches with the fishy, watery scent of the lake breeze fluffing my hair, I recall the excitement of fishing at another lake in the mountains with my grandpa. The careful choosing of bait, adding the weights and a bright red bobber. Time seemed to slow as the line was cast, reeled, and repeated over the course of a warm summer afternoon – the same breeze with an earthy, fishy lake water scent keeping the worst of the heat at bay. The memory of it makes me smile.

Feeling dozy, I lie back on the blanket I brought and close my eyes for a spell. The earthiness of the lake combined with the close warmth of the afternoon fills my mind with much needed peace and I nap for a bit, letting childhood memories of cloud watching and camping take me away.

Startled awake by the fussy chatter of a grey squirrel in the branches above, I stretch, gather up my things and head back to the cabin. What a beautiful way to spend a lazy afternoon. Looking to the sky, I see the sun beginning to make its descent.

Relaxing on the deck after a quick dinner of grilled chicken and homemade potato salad, I sip a lovely cup of herbal tea as the sun showcases it final burst of color before setting behind the treetops.

The forest and meadow quiet into evening and the first pinprick of stars make their appearance. As the night gentles and cools, I grab an old quilt off the chair. It feels safe to be wrapped up and warm this chilly evening. There are unknowns, mysteries and strange sounds that move around me in the now dark forest, but I don’t feel afraid. Gazing up at the stars, a familiar feeling of being deeply loved washes over me. You created these stars and heavenly bodies, placing them just so in the night sky – giving direction to the weary traveler and bringing light to one who feels lost. When I felt tiny and insignificant in a vast sea of humanity, You reached out to me with lovely bursts of light breaking through the darkness and spoke to my soul of hope, purpose, and safety. You still see me. The lovely carpet of stars in the dark night sky continues to speak of love, peace, and warmth on the quiet deck of a cabin in the woods. Beautiful memories of healing, redemption and above all, hope.