Pale and soft yarns flows through my fingers,
in and out, back and forth,
while I imagine the one for whom I make this
being woven by Another, cell after delicate cell,
in the depths of the mother's womb.
Praying yesterday: For grandbaby and parents as they grow in hidden and not so hidden ways.
The sycamore has slowly being undoing itself; this morning I see yet another limb has been cast off. It lies half submerged in the water with its gnarly hands and fingers grasping the creek bank like bleached bones.
Praying today: What things do I need to cast off in order to be the person God has made for today? (I could start by forgoing that stupid computer game :-/ )
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