There is something about winter: The bare trees in the morning fog
The deep red of the sunrise on a cold winters morning, The white as white crisp frost crunching underfoot and the transparent cobwebs washed with dew drops hanging on a fence, glistening like a string of diamonds and among it all the last of the brilliance of colour of the passing autumn.
There is one thing I have learnt in my day to day life that where ever you are, whatever you see, Whatever you do, is all prayer on the breath. Victor Hugo said: Certain thoughts are prayers. They are moments when, whatever the attitude of the body the soul is on its knees.
Grace and peace from the Lord Jesus Christ,
Anne, servant of the Lord.
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