In the winter of the soul, head bowed with grief, arms raised in surrender.

The texture uncovered in the cold and barren season.

Beauty found in the fragility.

Strength found in the roots.

Hope found in the waiting for spring.

 

“…to comfort all who mourn,
     and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.”

Isaiah 61:2b-3

 

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