As I stopped by the woodland last night my heart broke for everyone and everything impacted by the wildfires in and around Fort McMurray
We walk where His love wills flowers
Showers, storms, we suffer loss
But through all that He allows us
Streams the power of the cross
Not for ‘nothing more than moments’
Do we spill our live-love-learn
This is not some flow’r-strewn torment
With no payoff in return
What is all this season-reason?
Summer-heat and winter-cold
Weaves a walkway through past’s eons
Leaving us awe-struck and old
He wills breath by breath reminders
Of his faithfulness and grace
We walk where His loving kindness
Never forgets or forsakes
We walk where His love wills flowers
Showers, storms of grief and loss
But, through every season-bower
Beams the power of the cross
© Janet Martin
The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.
You write it so well. Beautiful.
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