Father, I love the beauty of storm and the meetings they carry.
The thunder rumbling depth through airy clouds.
The lightning cracking silhouettes across the darkened skies.
The blows and shifts of the wind; the mystery of its origin and strength.
Trees, branches, leaves; rustling, swaying, bending.
The drips then drops of rain.
The power and presence of downfall.
Heaven’s grays and purples meet earth’s greens and browns.
It’s in these moments we so often do meet.
Wholly Home 
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