What I hold dear: *~God has a purpose for my life. No other person can take my place. It isn't a big place to be sure, but for years I have been molded in a peculiar way to fill a particular niche in the world's work. Everyday I thank God for those talents and gifts.~* These PS moments have resonated within me. They're worthy enough to steal my time from a busy life to share what my heart has begged my fingers to tap onto keyboard. These Postscripts from Home make up my story.
It's in the fading sunlight filtering softly through the branches creating artful shadows across the carpet of lush lawn. It's in the throaty croaking of the toad down in the barest trickle of a riprap edged streambed. It's in the flutter of fresh spring green leaves as the wind whispers across them. It's in the delicate resonating hum of crickets warming up to orchestrate my evening's lulling symphony. It's in the gentle tilt of the sunflower's lovely dark pebbled face following the sun's westward path. It's in the softest echoing of the morning dove's coo at twilight. It's in the palest milky blue of a clear expansive sky fading into softest rose before a silvery sliver of moon and starlight pierce through.