The view from my kitchen window is my most sacred altar. Many a prayer has been offered up from this place. Many times with tears, and often with a humble smile. Always with faith that grows like the garden I look out onto.
My windowsill has held collections of family members passed on, sticks and flowers little hands have given me, and memories of the person I am, because of the gifts God has poured out on me.
I never want to forget how blessed I am and how precious hope is in every day. It isn’t difficult to lose sight of that when life disappoints, but I stand at my window and remember; God is with me and loves me and mine fearlessly.