Sometimes just a phrase catches my heart, other times it is a constant practice of retraining my brain that wakes me up.  Many metaphysical mornings I am sluggish to see the clarity.  Even when the sun shines on my fingers over the keys.

I still see Diana’s deer standing tall and simply proud in the soft endless Michigan fields and gentle scattered forests.  Gazing into Her doe-soft eyes, I affirm my trust in the path toward being more of who I am.  My heart has to open more, my arms need to rest out instead of closed tight around my chest.

May I be a heritage tree in Your forest, deeply rooted in Your cycling seasons of affection, nourished in rain and sun, branching out as I am called.