Tonight I long to pull out all the stops of my imagination. I’m dreaming of  leafy creamy sentences and beautiful satin dresses, and there are hints of graffiti and deserted underpasses lit up by a soft evening sun. In this blessed vision, there are musical symphonies dancing all over the page and redwoods shooting up to join the whispers of treetops. There are scenes of comforted villagers, smiling stroke patients, and glowing parents. 

“Ministry is never planned”, Dad once told me.

Why is it so hard to trust God for oppurtunities He‘s planned?

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