Oh Orange Juice – Orange Juice — heaven sent! Delivered by angles to wet ones parched dry lips, to caress and tantalize ones taste buds back to life, to refresh ones tongue, the roof of the mouth and awaken the tonsils and throat from the grasp of death to new life! So one can clearly sing -> “Alleluia – Lord Have Mercy”!!!

The curly locks of a pretty young girl’s hair, the smile of the young lass who is reaching out to greet us with an outstretched hand holding a beautiful flower.

Her hat, her coat and her dress, ah the whole essence of her being cause one to pause for the briefest of moments.

If only we can pause long enough to take it all in, we might per chance. notice the flowers delicate pedals that carry the flowers true beauty.

Pedals that symbolize the tenderness of our very own innermost being, the place we allow no one to visit, a place our human nature buries below a surface of a hardened core – a place we call our house.

She clings to a lamp post we might not have noticed or the oversized

coat of the Father.  The lamp post holds the light for the whole world to

see, the warmth and protection of the fathers coat,  if only they pause long enough to look and open the doorway to the our heart.

We scarce can take it all in, that we might even hear the sweet whisper that flows from her lips as it caresses the soul of all those whom she meets.

She can never be avoided but her image and the message can be blocked by the coarseness of the passageway to the heart.

This beautiful lass has taught me there is always plenty of room to inside the room of the heart and I have learned and come to love her so!

Each is called by name not in jest – but for a true conversion of heart.

For as each one encounters the lass, each is called, grace will abound and be found in compassionate love with the potential to heal and wipe away every tear of disgrace.

The question at last must be asked – have you ever seen the girl?

Love is communicated through the welcoming images of creation as they penetrate the eye.

It can be fun to find the things that go through the spirit of the mind.

Over the past months I have withdrawn to be consumed and found locked in a room.

After months of persistence and strain, I grew tried and weary and called out in pain to the voice in the room.

There is discovery there for one with passion to bare.

There seemingly alone, yet consumed by a dream of a bush all aflame, I was consumed by the flame only to remain.

Although seemingly walking alone, I opened my heart to the risk and chance to join in a new dance.

There sweet music filled the room and I became aware of the immense size of the room.

Finally I paused and crawled into a tree and the memory of an angel visited me there.

The need to embrace and caress while smelling the essence of her hair served to make  me more fully aware.

I long to hear her sighs, her coo echo’s in my ears and her smile melts my heart.

Her lips turned upside down, instantly bring tears to my eyes and melt my heart.

Crushed, I discovered anew a longing and yearning for the angle who visited there.

Out of fear of my withdrew, I called out anew for a way to encounter a fresh breath of angle air that crawled into my room when I was barely aware.

Perhaps more simple to say, I miss you this day and fear you may no longer visit this room.

The heart is the room and amazing to say there is always plenty of room for angel air in the room.  So why did this happen to me and the angle pass through?

The message is clear, in the sounds of music passing through the room the angel deposited there.

The answer is buried in the infinite flame of the spirit who calls us home, to engage in the struggle to smuggle the great hidden tenderness of love and mercy buried there out of the room.