Weak voices of a congregation singing Great is Thy Faithfulness on a Sunday, and it’s the quiet chorus of farmers and families made humble by the death of a young mother to a brain aneurism, and sometimes the stained glass seems to mock for all of its color.

(Friends, join me here, today, won’t you? At lovely JoAnn’s site?)

Thankful, with Ann:

485. camping in the mountains
486. pre-labor symptoms
487. the smell of laundry drying on the line
488. artwalks on whyte ave
489. ice cream and smarties
490. wiener roasts
491. potty-trained little boys
492. quiet mornings with coffee and Bible
493. evenings spent with husband toes tucked under afghan watching shows
494. a garden blooming
495. God in heaven seeming so close to earth