image from mygardenlife.com
petals rest in a small porcelain bowl, their faded colors holding the last warm whisper of summer’s breath like a prayer released from the hush of a chapel their fragrance drifts upward~ a sweetness rising toward unseen grace. I sense the Holy Spirit moving through the softened petals, turning what has fallen into something still glowing. potpourri—a symbol of how God gathers the small, the broken, the dried~ and breathes a lingering fragrance into them.
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