Stars in the Headlights

Note: This is going to be a short story in installments. Alexander inspired me, Phil:).

It was amazing how different the oncoming headlights looked through tears. They elongated themselves into spikes reaching towards the sky and down towards the depths of the earth. It made her forget how her eyes were burning; aflame with that salty water that comes out of the soul when it is injured. Light was not just light; it was a reflection, a mirror, a window, and a beacon. The light led her to think of Jesus; and the prayers arose from her lips for His mercy to wash over her.
The old tape player put out a song that was sung on her wedding day many years ago. She took him for better or for worse. It had been a mixed bag of both over the time that they had been married. The fall in the garden had taken its' toll on everything. Marriage was definitely one of those entities. Ella came back to the baseline truth that kept her with him: she still loved the guy. The song brought back so many images of daily life and the thundering hooves of children's feet. Anyone who referred to them as "pitter-patter" had not been blessed with children of their own.

SATURDAY

O God , Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the crucified body of our dear Son was laid in the tomb and rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him the coming of the third day, rise with him to newness of life; who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
From The Book of Common Prayer

Young Artists

This is from Chelsey's Wednesday night high school concert. I was wildly impressed and had to share it with you all. Thanks to Bill for helping me put this post together! This piece is called Alligator Alley, by Michael Daugherty, and features bassoons, which you can hear right at the beginning.

Chelsey's Artform: hair-sculpture

Matthew 10:29-31"What's the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail—even numbering the hairs on your head! So don't be intimidated by all this bully talk. You're worth more than a million canaries." (The Message)