Sunday

I went on a walk this morning, to take some pictures.
I saw my car, and I am sure I had a little pang in my heart.
Because I know it misses Minneapolis.

I picked up a newspaper and read all about it,

And I sat for a while.

I took off my shoes and my watch today.
I rested.

I picked one of those dandilions that are dead and have all the little seeds but look so much prettier.
And I blew it. Into the sunshine.

And I didn't take a picture. I just watched it, with my own eyes, and I thought to myself:
"This is good."

later.
I listened to a song.
That said:


If could not hold a pen
I would write of you on my heart instead.


You have bought me with your blood and I am painted red by Your Love.






If I could not say a word
my life would speak of love I dont deserve.




Hope means holding on to you

Grace means you are holding me too.






I listened to it again.
and again
and again.

And I thought to my to myself:

"This is good. This whole living thing.
This is good."