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Mystery

God is met not as an object to be understood, but as a mystery to be loved -attributed to Gregory of Nyssa d. 19 July, 394 Crisp and white underfoot crunching whilst I take out the bins: It’s going to be a cold one tonight! A look at the news of Ol’ Blimey and the Spaniards and the mystery of the excessive heat baffles whilst antipodean lands freeze over The fires around London and in Spain permeate the air with acrid smoke and fear whilst fires of red gum on the ranges provide much warmth A social media post laments the climate change happening up in the north exciting experts and sceptics to pronounce their understanding on truth, reality, and fiction It is cold down under Yet London’s burning, yes, London’s burning There is a kangaroo in my carport ‘tis Mystery all wrote Wesley before his chains fell off and I could allow the next line of his hymn to set the heart of the macropod free although I suspect it would rather remain in the warmer indoors Mystery! Just maybe Gregory of Nyssa nailed it Some things are meant to remain a mystery rather than being a burden to achieve the impossible quest to understand or even comprehend, so that you could hold a smug position of pontificating on whether the change is real or the climate is one big hoax? All is quiet now in the stillness and the cold except for the sound of a kangaroo bounding across the ice

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