It doesn't matter what is happening around her.
It doesn't matter where she is.
It doesn't even matter the music
...or a lack entirely.
She dances.
She twirls.
Sometimes she even breaks into leaps
across the kitchen floor.
She cannot help but respond
to the joy that wells up within her.
And in her movements,
she is learning new ways
to dance upon circumstances,
to praise Him
no matter what is swirling around her.
Her eyes are lifted up
to the One who brings joy.
You have turned for me
my mourning
into dancing,
You have loosed my sackcloth
and girded me with gladness,
that my soul may praise You
and not be silent.
O LORD my God,
I will give thanks to You for ever.
Psalm 30. 11-12
1 comment:
Hi Karen really enjoyed reading your blog specially about the one Where your dad built in ice-skating Brought back memories of my neighborhood
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