God of little buds now wearing green sleeves,
God of lilac limbs all full with signs of flowering,
God of fields plowed and black with turned-over earth,
God of screeching baby bird mouths widely awaiting food,
God of openness, of life, and of resurrection,
Come into this season and bless me.
Look around the tight, dead spaces of my heart
That still refuse to ….. read more
~ Joyce Rupp in May I have this dance?