There is the sort of day when the snow falling gently dampens every sound. And then there's that same sort of night : more still than six feet under, more calm than the surface of the moon. I recall a night of such when, walking down from Trinity, filled with contentment I took a moment to write on the snow covering someone's trunk: "God of peace, we want you."
Unfortunately I couldn't write it large enough to actually be legible. We all have hardships to bear.
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Unfortunately I couldn't write it large enough to actually be legible. We all have hardships to bear.
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