Perhaps most precious to our people is the collective power of prayer—it is most simply love, one to another, in the trenches of life when brokenness needs the hope of someone else, where faith is sewn into the distresses of others, where the bounty of prayer begins the healing of one, for the healing of all, and God’s light beam pins shoulder to shoulder, hand to elbow, and eye to heart, when death becomes life and sorrow fades; even when it shouldn’t. You peek toward the grief but the hurt is gone, as the world sings in the dew of the day, reborn and glistening in the miracle of a warm shower washed in the stars of evening, dried in the gleam of sun’s gilded hair. Newness drenches the world, if even for a glimpse. But it is enough, until the next time.

Love to all. Dianne