Dearest and Beloved,

Is the language of Your Spirit like the language of the wind?

Sometimes the wind is still.

Flora waits in restful repose for its next instruction while she quietly digests her nourishment thus far.

Without its voice, she does not make a move.

Yet, when once again the wind whispers through her, she sighs in blessed relief and continues her song.

I would be like flora, quietly meditating on your nourishment thus far, and lovingly anticipate your Spirit’s next direction.