The rock chucks have been tearing up our alfalfa. The one field we have left. The field that seems to be carrying us through this season of less {which really is turning out to be more}.
This season - where we're not sure where we're headed exactly, but we're willing to make our own trail down hillsides and up ravines in hopes of a beautiful future.
This season - where we're hanging out on hillsides every chance we get - chasing light the best we know how.
This season - where we're watching carefully and quietly for opportunities that might be missed by being too busy or too loud.
This season - where we're choosing to be surprised by the quiet gifts that are right in front of us. The gifts that have been there all along - just waiting to be noticed.
This season - where words aren't always necessary to see that we're growing like weeds & doing our best to radiate sunshine wherever we go.
Because sometimes seasons don't need words, they just need Jesus.
1 comment:
Beautiful - all of it.
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