God, my dog, the yellow magnolia tree, and the steady rain watering my gardens.
Feeling from yesterday of powerlessness, as I felt as a child.
What is revealed … is that they are human too. That they have been hurt too, wounded, experience their own struggles. That they do not mean to hurt, but come from a place of fear and protectiveness, just as I do.
In the blooming pink magnolia trees.
With fear, I remain small, reactive, and wounded. I take things personally and defensively. With love, I open my heart, reach out to others, trust the world will be good to me.
The birch tree down the road. That allows me to leave my worries and fears there, and where the wound in its bark reminds me of woundedness leading all the way back the cross, and its healing.
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