the air is tinged with hope.
i step outside, and the barest hints of color poke through the earth; fragments of life foiled against a rattling backdrop of winter's skeletons.
there are quiet spaces between death and growth, enough room for the seeds of the gospel to take root within me.
for more quiet things, stop by beth's place for this week's youcapture.
On Frogs and Living
12 hours ago