Thunderstorms passed through during the night.
The news tells us of tornadoes and damage to our west, but the storms
were gentle here, comforting rumbles that briefly stirred us.
Here in Alabama and the rest of the South, tulips come with tornadoes.
We can't spread our arms to welcome spring without embracing severe weather.
The birth of the new season is anticipated, welcomed.
Like all new birth, it has it's labor pains, it's struggle to be born.
We can't have one without the other.
The same invisible force that makes my wind chimes tinkle gently is the same entity that can splinter homes and level whole towns. The wind is powerful, uncontrollable.
Is there anything else that could so fittingly serve as a symbol of the Spirit?
The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the spirit. John 3:8
So do you think it's bad that I just started reading The Wizard of Oz aloud to my girls yesterday? The thought did cross my mind. . .
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Great post!