Flying to Paradise, I Stopped at the Goodwill

For the last couple days I have been thinking about making another visit to the Goodwill Outlet, commonly called The Bins.

If you unfamiliar with the bins–these are the last stop outlet stores operated by Goodwill–where old stuff is fought over, believe it or not! You should see the races at the bins! And the referees!!! And hear the instructions over the PA system.

But that is not what I am writing about today. It’s the serendipitous finds that entice me to The Bins. 

Why? Some of my best-loved soul sisters and brothers have been discovered through the Goodwill.

For example, just before a trip to Hawaii in 2011, I dropped by The Bins in search of a couple books I could read and toss. I waited until the adrenaline rush of grabbing hands ceased and reflectively stepped up to the big blue bins filled to the brim with a cacophony of cast off volumes. Surprise! Surprise! I was not disappointed.

Flying to paradise, I immersed myself in Traveling Light:  A Photographer’s Journey, by Deborah DeWit Marchant. Her photos changed everything about how I see through the lens of my camera. I came home from Hawaii and found an online photography course. I moved my DSLR off auto. I learned to comprehend f/stops. I still  get lost in Marchant’s ethereal photographs. She changed my vision! She helped me see whispering light rather than shouting scenes.

whispering trees

 

Another time, I discovered Creating with Paper:  Basic Forms and Variations, by Pauline Johnson. Tucked within the pages of this book is a pattern I had been seeking since fourth grade when we had folded red construction paper into many-sided polyhedrons to decorate our classroom Christmas tree. I guess that dates me! This Christmas at our cabin, we sat around the table leisurely making many-sided polyhedrons and hanging them from the beams.

polyhedron

Sometimes I take it up a notch and go to the real Goodwill where I shop the shelves. I discovered The Celtic Way of Prayer: The Recovery of the Religious Imagination, by Esther de Waal. This journey back in time impacted how I viewed our bicycle trip across America in 2012. Read about that at summersabbath.wordpress.com

Sometimes a Goodwill find leads me to more intentional discoveries beyond the resale store. Esther de Waal introduced me to Thomas Merton when she mentioned that he saw the world through “rinsed eyes.” For A Seven Day Journey with Thomas Merton, By Esther de Waal, I had to shop Amazon. Interestingly, the copy that arrived bore a Goodwill Books sticker as well as a Powell’s Bookstore Sticker. My next Merton book required me to move up the economic ladder and purchase a fresh Kindle copy! Merton has prompted meditative walks with cell phone camera in hand as my “instrument of contemplation” and it all started one day at the Goodwill. Or did it? From where I stand today on my artistic journey, I’m inclined to believe these finds were waiting for me to guide my steps into the way of solitude. More about that later. Actually that is where this is going in future posts.

PUDDLE

One of my most recent finds pulled from The Bins is The Voice, the 2011 translation of the NT. I am mesmerized by its artistic and very contemporary screen play format. John 1 caught my attention right off.

“Before time itself was measured, the Voice was speaking.

The Voice was and is God. This celestial Word remained ever present with the Creator; His speech shaped the entire cosmos. Immersed in the practice of creating, all things that exist were birthed in Him…”

Why do I share these finds? God is speaking all the time and often He speaks to me from my finds at the local Goodwill Stores. I sense I am on an artistic and contemplative journey.

Books like these help slow me down. I can learn from others who lived in times when solitude was more readily available. Today I know we must intentionally seek the quiet and invite authors from quieter times to speak into our lives the truth that brings transformation.

Marchant has. de Waal has. Merton has. St. John has. I am a better person for being mentored by these thoughtful and contemplative individuals.

Who are the authors who have impacted your life? Consider a trip through your local Goodwill. You may find gold on those shelves or in those bins. You may count these books as some of your dearest confidantes. Listen! God is speaking! Sometimes it doesn’t come in your quiet time, but through your ramble through a bin of discarded books.

Marlee Huber ~ For Your Flourishing Life!

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Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Some of my favorite books have called to me from the noisy din of The Goodwill Store. The Celtic Way of Prayer: the Recovery of the Religious Imagination by Esther de Waal is one of those gems read and reread, underlined and thoroughly marked up, and never too far from reach.

It seems fitting on St. Paddy’s Day to pull a prayer from this volume which is a modern translation of “The Deer’s Cry” said to be written in the 8th century but attributed to St. Patrick. Called to face the high-king, St. Patrick set out on his journey chanting prayers for protection. When the high-king laid ambush all he found was a group of deer with a fawn following them, hence the colloquial name.

deer_

There is another name for this prayer, St. Patrick’s Breastplate, or lorica, which is an ancient form of prayer for protection. Not a bad thing to pray in our crazy, mixed-up, world of 2014 where an airplane full of innocent travelers has just disappeared off the planet and a country has voted to reunite in a forced election where troupes stand poised to violate their borders.

For my shield this day 
The Holy Trinity!
Affirming threeness, Confessing oneness,
In the making of all 
Through love…

For my shield this day I call:
Christ’s power in this coming
and in his baptizing,
Christ’s power in his dying
On the cross, his arising
from the tomb, his ascending;
Christ’s power in his coming
for judgment and ending.

For my shield this day I call:
strong power of the seraphim,
with angels obeying,
and archangels attending,
in the glorious company
of the holy and risen ones,
in the prayers of the fathers,
in visions prophetic
and commands apostolic,
in annals of witness,
in virginal innocence,
to the deeds of steadfast men.

For my shield this day I call”
Heaven’s might,
Moon’s whiteness,
Fire’s glory,
Lightning’s swiftness,

Wind’s wildnes,s
Ocean’s depth,
Earth’s solidity,

Rock’s immobility.

This day I call to me;
God’s strength to direct me,
God’s power to sustain me.
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s vision to light me,
God’s ear to my hearing,
God’s word to my speaking,
God’s hand to uphold me,
God’s pathway before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s legions to save me:
from snares of the demons,
from evil enticements,
from failings of nature,
from one man or many
that seek to destroy me,
anear or afar.

Be Christ this day my strong protector:
against poison and burning
against drowning and wounding,
though reward wide and plenty . . .
Christ beside me, Christ before me;
Christ behind me, Christ within me;
Christ beneath me, Christ above me;
Christ to right of me, Christ to left of me;
Christ in my lying, my siting, my rising;
Christ in heart of all who know me,
Christ on tongue of all who meet me,
Christ in eye of all who see me,
Christ in ear of all who hear me.

For my shield this day I call:
a mighty power;
the Holy Trinity!
affirming threeness,
confessing oneness
in the making of all–through love . . .

For to the Lord belongs salvation,
and to the Lord belongs salvation
and to Christ belongs salvation.

May your salvation, Lord, be
with us always. . .

May you walk shielded in the breastplate of righteousness today.

Marlee Huber ~ For Your Flourishing Life!

This translation is by Neil Dermott O’Donoghue, “St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” in James P. Mackey (ed.), An Introduction to Celtic Christianity (T & T Clark, 1989), pp. 45-64.

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Bright Morning Star, Release Beauty…

God acts within every moment

And creates the world with each breath.

He speaks from the center of the universe,

In the silence beyond all thought.

Mightier than the crash of a thunderstorm,

Mightier than the roar of the sea,

Is God’s voice silently speaking

In the depths of the listening heart.” Adapted front the Hebrew by Stephen Mitchell, Psalm 93.

Judy's sunset view

Nature calls me, and as Richard Foster writes, she is one of two required reading books in Christian theology. As a nature lover for decades, I have stood on high vistas and taken snapshots with the intention of shoving everything into one over-sized stuff-bag to minimize printing costs. In this new era, it costs nothing to simplify and isolate, to remove the other stuff, and focus on a single heart-beckoning feature.

An old reed and the Alder cones

A year ago, my DSLR was set to auto. At the insistence of an online instructor, I took the plunge and twisted the dial to manual. I was determined to step around the mental block called f/stops and take new territory. In the process, I learned to look around the edges of the frame and eliminate body parts and other protruding stuff. I didn’t realize how my spiritual eyes would open as I slowed the pace and focused with my natural eyes. I found myself eliminating distractions from my everyday life as well as from my art.

Let me back up. Just after I jumped into a 24 lesson series by National Geographic Photographer, Joel Sartore, I began a study on contemplative prayer. Here I discovered how to write breath prayers that spoke to my soul’s deep desire. Having just discovered the philosophical definition of beauty—beauty is truth packaged with love, joy, and peace, I longed to push my photography to the next level where beauty would reveal the nature of God.

Leaning alder

My soul begged to release beauty.  If I could intentionally make a photographic frame that exposed beauty, perhaps it would whisper truth to aching souls. I know Jesus is truth and I also know much of contemporary culture is done with Bible banging. They must hear from the other required reading source.

For my breath prayer, I chose the name for God, Bright Morning Star, acknowledging that photography is painting with light just as the stars paint trails across the midnight canvas.

For several weeks I whispered this gentle prayer.

Bright morning star, release beauty through me.

I continued to post photos to Facebook. Soon, the word beautiful popped up in comment boxes for both my photos and for me!

I began this journey with bold landscapes, but as winter drew the shades, I settled into drawing beauty from the commonplace and the frequently ignored. In walks around our cabin, I let my camera and my heart find overlooked beauty.

suspended leaf

I recalled how last summer, during an afternoon on my hammock, I preserved this idyllic scene like a box of cling peaches put up for winter meals.

hammock

Yesterday, I snowshoed near the sturdy tree that holds my summer-time hide-away and observed how this conifer mother hovered over a tiny little seedling. I found Thomas Merton’s words, “It is essential to experience all the times and moods of one good place.” I recalled how this Trappist monk viewed his camera as an “instrument of contemplation.”

Little seedling

Now when I step out on another photographic jaunt, my camera swings around my neck while my soul is set on contemplation. I find a worshipful attitude reveals God’s nature more succinctly.

What began as a desire to conquer f/stops has become a ministry that is now entering the marketplace. Friends are requesting copies of photos so I jumped into www.pixingo.com/marlee/bigpicture so I could have my own self-publishing platform from which to spread the beauty.

Recently a mother on Facebook, whose son was disappearing within the grave clothes of the soul, requested friends pray “Lazarus, come forth”!  I searched through my archives for a frame that whispered peace to me. Instead of simply leaving it to disappear into the Facebook digital attic, I offered to mail her a greeting card containing the picture. I titled it Lazarus, come forth. Surprisingly, I now see in the frozen piles of snow the grave clothes concealing a human form. I encouraged her that the sun/Son will melt the snow. I will not soon forget her response that came the same day she posted that her son was shifting toward the light.

Sun Peaks Day 2-5

“I am touched beyond words by your photograph and the words you wrote within…on my writing desk and will remain there throughout this season.”

I should not be surprised. Once again I pray, Bright Morning Star, Release beauty…and love and joy and peace… through me.” 

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Seahawks Win Proves Accuracy of Holy Scriptures

The last couple weeks in Seattle and across the state of Washington have been absolutely amazing. In fact, they have been nothing less than powerful evidence that the Bible is true.

“Hey—what does the Bible have to do with the Seahawks win?”

Everything.

Have you read Psalm 133 lately? It tells you why the Seahawks tromped the Broncos yesterday. It explains why the likes of Rush Limbaugh called it a horrible game because one team simply didn’t show up.

The Bible?

Yes, this psalm of David is a marvelous word picture of what happens when unity connects people. And let me tell you, the state has been unified about this win. Yes, the team worked diligently and showed up at every game. But they didn’t show up alone! The 12th man showed up!

Actually, I have not seen this kind of unity since 9-11. Yes! Really. Our country came together around a shared grief in 2001 and rightfully so. This time our state came together around a shared belief that a Seattle team could and would win the world championship. Trust me, if you live in Washington State you know it takes a lot of faith to believe a Seattle team will win a world championship!

Okay. Let’s back up. Let’s talk about the 12th man.

12—it has been all over this season in Seattle. The last couple weeks it is everywhere!

Seahawks AirplaneEven on an airplane!

Seahawks Airplane-3

So what is so important about 12? Symbolically, the number 12 stands for authority and heavenly government. It stands for things coming into right order. It reminds us of the 12 men who changed the world forever because of one in whom they believed.

12! What does it represent? The people. The 12th man.

So take a look at Psalm 133 and you will see biblical truth with demonstrated proof at the Super Bowl yesterday with all of Washington State cheering on! Now that is really good news!

Psalm 133 says in verse 1: “How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity.”

UNITY!

Unity has reigned in Seattle and across the state this month! Trust me, I’m a life-long resident of Washington State, born and raised east of the mountains. I’ve spent my adult years on the westside–or the coast as people on the other side say.  Rarely do we come together about anything! Anything! We did with this team!

Pop down to the last verse, verse 3—you really don’t need a lot of verses to explain the benefits of unity.

“For there the Lord bestows his blessing…”

Seattle was a shoe-in to win! Denver had no chance.

God commands a blessing when bros live together in unity. The opposition caves when unity triumphs. Unity is a non-stoppable force! Selah!

The “12” brothers (and the sisters) have been living in a lot of unity in Seattle and across the state lately!

Touch Down! Seahawks! Touch Down! Holy Bible!

Seahawks Airplane-6

Marlee Huber ~ For Your Flourishing Life!

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An Afternoon for Creativity

Today I will pick up my grandson after preschool and we will create. The paper and the colored pens will come out. The marbles and the racetrack will be reconfigurated. It will be another afternoon of creativity at Memaw’s house.

Currently there is a gallery showing of his artwork lining the walls in the hall, down the staircase and in the entryway of our home.

Samuel artgallery-mirror

On Sunday evening, my husband, the engineer, placed a framed “portrait of the artist as a young man” on our entryway table.

Samuel entry way tableIt is Samuel’s first gallery showing. He told me when he came on Monday that he is an artist. I am certain of that. Now my role is to safeguard his artistic perception.

Every child is an artist at five. At 18, it’s a different story. Ask a roomful of high school seniors and maybe one will raise his hand. I am determined Samuel will be that one.

Samuel's puppy drawing

Why?

I sense God is quickening a renaissance of artists who will showcase God’s glory in their generation. They have every tool at their disposal to do just that. Our computers possess the possibility to

write and publish

photograph and publish

paint and publish

dance and publish

make music and publish

cook and publish

garden and publish.

This post will go up on WordPress for the entire world to see. The capability is here. It is now. It is at our fingertips.

We are called to be a company that publishes Good News!

In 2009, Pope Benedict gathered a group of artists in the Sistine Chapel and called for artists to collaborate with the Church. He told them their task was to grasp “treasures from the heavenly realm of the spirit” and clothe “them in words, colours, forms — making them accessible.” It is time. It is now time for this generation. It is for the House of God. It is to throw open the gate to heaven.

Why not Samuel? At four, he draws. He paints. He plays the drums. He gardens. He rolls out cinnamon rolls with his Papa. He makes photographs with my iPhone. He designs railroad tracks for all the scenes in the Polar Express. He is so utterly expressive in everything that he does.

Theresa Dedmon in her book, Born to Create, describes God as versatile, creative, colorful, wild, mysterious, playful, merciful, shows up in the dirtiest of places, and likes to laugh. Sounds like a little boy to me!

Samuel is an artist made in the image of God. The Creator’s creativity flows through our boy in untamed ways. My role as his Memaw is to blow the winds of possibility into every crevice of his creative spirit so he becomes a young revivalist showcasing the Glory of God through the arts.

Mi casa. Su casa.

My table for creativity. Your table for creativity.

For the King of Kings!

After all, the first verb in the Holy Bible is CREATED!

Samuel table and chair

Marlee Huber ~For Your Flourishing Life!

  •  http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/benedict-xvi-s-address-to-artists
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I’m A Light Chaser. Are You One Too?

When I was thirteen, my daddy almost died. After that whenever I pointed out a sunset, he would glance towards it, shake his head in disappointment, and wander off whistling a tune about heaven. We always surmised that in the delirious depths of his cause-unknown trek through the valley of the shadow of death he caught a glimpse of heaven’s welcome sign. After that, everything on earth went gray.

I never succeeded in pointing out anything on earth that remotely resembled his heavenly encounter. Today as I look out my big windows across a bleached concrete pad of sky, I recall my daddy’s lack of interest in a sunset. I wonder is this how daddy saw sunsets?

After his heavenly encounter, Daddy’s choice for the next forty years was to give up paying attention to any sunfilled light show. The chasm was simply too great. Not having his experience, my choice is to press more deeply into earthly light in hopes of catching a glimpse of heavenly glory. For the time being, I’ll do this with my camera.

Photography is simply painting with light. As a long-time photographer and a short time light enthusiast, I now chase light with an almost evangelistic fervor. I’ve always loved sunshine, but for the past twelve months, I have plunged more deeply into the world of the fanatical light chaser. I walk the streets of my city in search of the reflected light so perfect for portraits. My soul feeds on sunrises and twilight. With my sweet husband in tow, I pursue alpenglow high in the northern Cascades while earlier on the same day, I drank the nectar of light filtering through great stands of deep cedar tucked away in remote, fern-strewn valleys.

Why am I telling you this? Because today’s sullen grayness did not greet the dawn. Expecting another shapeless day I gave no thought to pursuing sunrise. I didn’t even know exactly where I’d left my camera. Dressing in multiple layers and heading out early didn’t cross my mind. I huddled in my comfy polar-fleece bag with cuffs at neck, wrists, and ankles to keep out the draft, and I read. And then, almost intuitively I looked up from my cozy spot on the hearth to discover deep darkness giving way to a whisper of light.

I found my camera and watched brilliance unfold. I’m sharing this experience with you, because maybe like me, you have never seen heaven’s lights for yourself and haven’t been too keen on immersing yourself in the gentle shift of earthly light either. Maybe pursuing light has never been your forte. Perhaps you are not like photographers who prefer fall and winter light for it gentle undulations and fog-wrapped revelations.

Come with me on a journey into a new day. Let’s begin. It’s 8:24 AM PST. Click on any picture to enlarge it.

I detect a sunrise of some merit.

Dec 12-1I turn toward the city of Everett. Providence Hospital towers above the city. I check to see if fog is rolling down the river. No fog. It would have been a very good day to stake out my tri-pod on top the parking garage. Oh well…

The lights of the city still twinkle. A house in my neighborhood catches the early ambient light.

Dec 12-2

I look to the east. At this point, I step out onto my front steps enraptured in the glorious coral swaths impregnated with lusty purples that band the morning sky.

Dec 12-3

I direct my lens further east catching the silhouette of neighboring trees almost ignited by what appears as a holocaust. The wind whips up off Port Gardner Bay and the sequoia next door lurches with frenzy engulfed in the torrid blur.

Dec 12-4

Turning back toward the city, I catch my breath. How do you capture glory? My soul cries out to savor heaven’s light-show for more than a fleeting moment.

Dec 12-6

To the north, Mt. Baker emerges from her slumber while city lights continue to define the buildings creeping down toward the harbor.

Dec 12-7

Over head the light dazzles me with piping hot sweet potato intensity. I want to be here, yet wish I were on top the Providence Hospital Parking garage with a full view of the Cascade range.

Dec 12-8

So what that there is no elegant landscape to capture beneath this fiery sky. So what that I cannot capture the mountains in silhouette. I will take what I have and aim my camera up, up, up toward heaven’s glory as if aimed directly into a glass-blower’s kiln.

Dec 12-9

Then back to the city, the light becomes brighter, yet deeper. Jewel tones implore me to cross the threshold into saturated color.

Dec 12-10

Pinky brilliance fades into denim blues and ribbons of yellow. A hint of robin’s egg blue flirts with me from over the Cascades. I notice which house in my neighborhood catches the first rays.

Dec 12-11

Like a seductress, the light apprehends the leafless alders, spotlighting a tug in the bay and illuminating the beach houses across the water.

Dec 12-12

I watch color dilute into gentle apricot illuminating Providence Hospital’s glistening Colby campus while a streak of white on the water announces a small boat approaching the harbor.

Dec 12-13

From my window, I continue to chase the light and catch it. Like an adept hair stylist, it foils the alders with gold.

Dec 12-14

The bare-shouldered sun slips into heavy gray wraps. Apricot skies content themselves with a moment’s glory basking above blue mountains and logged fields laden with snow.

Dec 12-15

And finally, Mt. Baker–what a photogenic stunner she is!–defies the clouds and basks in the weak December sun. What time is it? 9:58 AM PST.

Dec 12-16

And now another three hours later, I sit beneath heavy skies and write about my morning. Off to the west I notice a twinge of light as the weak sun slips closer into what will be a generally unnoticed sunset. I had never monitored the movement of light like I have this day.

As I edit this piece, I listen and I look. The day has grown darker. The city is a muddle of gray barely indistinguishable from the bay. The wind whips the once gold-foiled alders and the rains strike my skylight with a steady beat. The city returns; the sky lightens.

And even amidst this Northwest December day, I am full of wonder.

I wonder if I crave light so much because there are days like today where an hour and a half of light is hedged in with so much grayness that it roots out the memories of my beloved daddy and the disappointing sunsets.

I wonder if I crave light because it portends heavenly revelation. I am reminded of the elderly St. John, a prisoner on an isolated island, who beheld a revelation of light during a heavenly vision. I find myself drawn to the passage he later wrote in the Gospel of John that records the words of the One who came from heaven’s splendor to walk this dusty, gray earth. He said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

I wonder what light infused street my daddy is walking along as he whistles today. For daddy, it is not just another graying sunless day following another starless night. It is not a final trip to the Providence Hospital ER. He is fully alive in an eternal day where there are no concrete gray streets or asphalt skies or unyielding hospital beds. I imagine him on streets of golden light so intense that it would burn through my earthly eyes and obliterate the light sensor in my DSLR camera. I imagine him celebrating hand in hand with the author of life reveling in the Presence of the One who leads from glory to glory.

I recall my daddy’s parting words to the nurse who assisted turning him in bed.

He whispered, “Do you know Jesus? I want to meet you in heaven someday.”

She shook her head, gently turned him, and watched him slip off…to a city that bedazzled him with light!

I’m a light chaser.

I wonder, Are you one too?

Marlee Huber ~ for Your Flourishing Life!

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A Tiny Cloud Called Hope

Last week, I left home early to experience sunrise. With my camera slung around my neck, a song spontaneously rose to my lips as I walked near the I-5 corridor.

The morning unwrapped her sleeping shroud throwing back layers of featherbedding that clung to the lazy Snohomish River. I stood enthralled, singing, and commanding my soul to arise and bless the Light. I wondered if perhaps I was changing the atmosphere with sound as I stood in a vacant lot singing and watching the fog. I imagined that some tearful traveler on the freeway might catch the shift and emerge on the sunny side of Monday. My soul soared on the wings of song. Lifting my camera, I made a multitude of stabs to capture the essence of this unveiling; each one came up empty.

When the sun burst above the Cascade Range nearly blinding me, I turned to go. Guess I won’t be capturing anything that makes my soul sing today, I thought.

Fifteen minutes later—Surprise! Surprise! The photographic moment I had been awaiting was not past, but in my present.

Near my car, I caught a grand window over the valley. I framed a photo, clicked the shutter, and caught my breath as I studied the digital display. Eagerly I rushed home to my computer where I sat entranced in the healing honey of this peaceful moment.

Then I noticed the obscure. One tiny cloud clung tenaciously along the rim of the horizon. In Lightroom, I splashed it with a hint of apricot rouge. The more I gazed at this frame, the more my eyes surrendered to the obscure cloud.

It reminded me of an old story about the Prophet Elijah and the promised rain. After three years of drought. Elijah kept warning King Ahab, “It’s going to rain.” The servant saw no skyward evidence. Elijah kept sending him to look one more time. Finally, he returned with news about a cloud the size of a man’s hand. And yes, Elijah’s tiny cloud became the vanguard for a whole host of heavily laden thunderheads. Run, Ahab, Run!

Let me simply say that my photographic quest is to isolate moments that will bring spiritual, emotional and physical healing honey through the One who identified himself as “Light.” Photography is painting with light. This Light came to flood us with flourishing life today just as it did 2000 years ago.

So my dream is that you will settle back and lose yourself in this tiny blush in the far eastern sky. Let go of the fog of your uncertainty. Release it to empty with the river into the welcoming bay. Let it float out to sea. Focus on the single cloud that promises the life-giving rain. Focus on the Light.snohomish valley

By the way, if you notice a shift spiritually, emotionally or physically, I’d love to know. That will satisfy my soul with a tiny cloud called hope.

Marlee Huber ~ For Your Flourishing Life!

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