French la Vie

Wooden rosace planted firmly on a church door. Worn smooth are the edges from the many hands of prayer, that have touched it to enter in…

*Dance in the darkness

slow be the pace

surrender to the rhythm

of redeeming grace.*

In the garden of our soul, let us plant seeds that nourish it.

For all things take time the petals of this rosette have changed, though the scent remains the same.