Beauty Rest Of Grace

In the quiet hours when the littlest eyes are closed and the puppy sighs at foot;

When the candle flame flickers and peace rests steady around shoulders.

In these moments of rest and quiet contemplation, of stillness and rhythmic breathing;

Grace pours in.

When no more can be done in daylight, and bones break weary on beds;

When dishes are left dripping and laundry left cooling, and dust left laying still:

When words ring back in echo rings around the mind,

Grace pours in.

It takes the stilling and the stoping.  It takes the laying down.

The turning off and the sighing deep.  Sitting alone with self.

The thoughts.  The remembering.  Letting go the doing and the going, the done and the yet to do.

Grace pours in.

Into all the holes, smoothing all the cracks.  Comforting the sores and aches.  Assuring the well-dones.

Encompassing and enveloping, Grace fills all the empty space.  Looming large and falling soft.

Refreshing the deadened, remolding the flattened, refilling the emptied, renewing the aged.

Grace pours in.

Releasing the new, kneading the hard and crusted.  Absorbing the abundance and amending the missing.

If it is let, miracles will flourish. Time tested, all things as before.  Wash, cleansed, applied.

Beauty restored when Grace pours in.

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