So to get me back into blogging, here is a beautiful piece called “The Singing of Angels” by Howard Thurman – some last echoes of Christmastime:
There must be always
remaining in every life,
some place for the singing of angels.
Some place for that
which in itself
is breathless and
Old burdens become lighter
deep and ancient wounds
lose much of their old hurting.
Despite all the crassness of life,
all the hardness and
life is saved by
the singing of angels.
(Source: The Mood of Christmas from inward/outward)
Picture is “stained glass angel” by Laura Grisham.