scribblechic

Just around a bend, in between our home and our children’s schools, there is a little white church that sits like a forgotten memory.

A place not mine, peace gifted like a blessing from an unexpected offering.

Stolen moments under the hush of a golden sunset. Forgiveness and faith folded in silence.

I think of this when my days curve around the shape remembering.

Then I whisper my thoughts like a confession to an old friend; a prayer of thanksgiving and promises to keep.

Tagged: Musings