Veronica Boulden

Exhilarated at the journey I was on, I ran along the path.  I started out across a dry, empty riverbed to reach the place where the path picked up again on the other side.  As I stepped out, a train flew by and nearly ran me over.  It blared its horn in rage like it was angry that it had missed me.  I was blown back, so I just stood there, shuddering for a moment at how close I'd come to being mown down.  But I recovered remarkably fast.  I was more than eager to keep moving on, filled with joy, excitement, and sheerest delight.   I watched till the train was out of sight, and more cautiously this time, stepped quickly across the riverbed before another train could come.   "Why a train?" I remembering thinking.  I was aware that I was dreaming as I am often am in dreams, but I was also thinking, "Wow! What a dream! I hope this one never ends!"  These pictures and sensations remain with me now clearer than most memories including my marriage ceremony or the birth

In seasons of change, or trial, or grief, a new song always seems to arrive, and just in time.  I consider this marvelous evidence that God is closer than a heartbeat.  Then the song goes on repeat.  The lyrics become the message that I preach to my soul.  And the new song becomes that new song that I sing to the Lord from the midst of the situation I am walking through.  Sometimes, it's not even me that is singing; It's the Holy Spirit singing through me for me.  Taylor Leonhardt seems to have a beautiful melancholy lament for everything, and she is providing the soundtrack for my life right now.  This is one beautiful song about drawing some healthier boundaries, something that resonates with me in this season.

We went for a two-hours-long hike in nearby Huntington State Park. This clump of turkey tails took my breath away. There's every shade of brown, white, and grey with lines of blues, greens, and even pinks.