
I thank Thee more that all our joy
Is touched with pain;
That shadows fall on brightest hours,
That thorns remain;
So that Earth’s bliss may be our guide,
And not our chain.
For Thou, Who knowest, LORD, how soon
our weak heart clings,
Has given us joys tender and true,
But all with wings, –
So that we see gleaming on high,
Diviner things.
A. Procter, The Cloud of Witness, p. 29
{I certainly didn’t plan being away from this little space for almost the whole month of January, but it was so needed. I’m learning to let go, being patient with myself, and yet, there also has to be a point where one shows up to one’s creative work. So, as yet, I’m not sure what that will mean, still muddling that through, but I do so hope I will be back more frequently}
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