There were no splendid flower bouquets, just simple green palms for waving. No chariot a-blazing, only the steady clip clop of a humble donkey. And the street was paved not in gold, but strewn with the coats of exhilarated onlookers. The details of Palm Sunday are magnificent in their simplicity. I can imagine the animal's coarse hair and tender brown eyes, sharp fronds snapping, the jumbled textile path. Somehow the tiniest details are seared into our consciousness when life is turned upside down and inside out with joy and hope. It's how we keep the miracle alive. (image)
When is the last time you found a personal note peeking out of your mailbox? From someone who gathered paper, pen or laptop (and thoughts) and focused solely on dear, wonderful you? Well, there will always be correspondence to open here. Love letters from life, written just for you.