Blessed are...

Two pictures from Facebook really spoke to me this week. The first articulates what I have discovered to be at the heart of my calling. It comes from Rock and Roll Industries Magazine - a resource way too heavy metal for my groove - but a place that recognizes the sacredness of artists.

The second was taken earlier today by my sweetheart - on our back deck - and it expresses the beauty and bittersweet realities of autumn in this neck of the woods. 

I had a long and tender conversation about grief and grace with a dear brother yesterday - I love him so - and ache as he walks the journey of his wounds. I visited a church friend in the hospital, too - a soul who wrestles with countless demons within and beyond his mind - and found myself softly weeping as he held my hands in prayer. I snuggled with our puppy earlier this afternoon and read messages from my sister about my father's hospitalization with pneumonia (yet again.) 

It is a quiet and melancholy day. So I listen to one of the saints of this era and smile as she lifts my heart with what is most true.