Sometimes things just work out.  Maybe it’s the preparation, prayer, setting the stage, reminding myself of the slippery slope.  Maybe it’s the moon or Mercury not in retrograde.

And maybe it is just me recognizing that grace simply is.  Always.  Waiting to be seen.  Wanting to be claimed.

Like water in a pure gurgling brook that can cool my feet, be thrown into my face, poured over my head in baptism.  I am renewed when I claim this grace.

Bowing to the Divine Sweet One whose fragrance still lingers in my room, Her whispers softly tickling my hungry heart.