Opaque heavens have shed rain with vigor in recent days. Out back, quiet streams swell to roaring rivers of sorely needed water. The flow works its way further along, gushing down rocky falls. I stand on the walkers bridge where the path crosses an engorged waterfall. The whir and spill of its hum muffles the racket of an over active mind. My thoughts are carried away along with the natural debris as currents continue to wind and crash downstream.
The emptied mind opens space for the whispers of Holy Spirit,
like the welcome rain cooled breezes that follow a storm.
The air is oxygen rich,
the Spirit whisper is sacred and equally life giving.
Standing there above the powerful cascade of water,
I reminisce over the ravages … that my life’s storms left behind…
The indelible marks of flooding water and destructive winds are still felt on my heart.
Yet I stand here today, despite the scars and markings of tumultuous events,
because Holy Spirit whispers
have always been present,
pouring life giving strength into my soul.
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