Tired (and funny) Peter curled up in a wheelbarrow in our ugly muddy backyard. This picture is strangely descriptive of our week.
It's these days, through this gratitude habit of gift-counting, He helps me to find beauty in the gray. I turn another page and record the blessings...
Golden sky through bare trees.
The full moon that seems to move with us as we drive home.
The second verse of I Cannot Tell.
I cannot tell how silently He suffered,
As with His peace He graced this place of tears,
Or how His heart upon the Cross was broken,
The crown of pain to three and thirty years.
But this I know, He heals the broken-hearted,
And stays our sin, and calms our lurking fear,
And lifts the burden from the heavy laden,
For yet the Savior, Savior of the world, is here.