On this beautiful summer morning, I moved into quietness, waiting, letting the Spirit use my holy imagination, which he implanted in me.
I was sitting on the beach when the Father arrived. This was a surprise. I often walk with Jesus, not the Father. It must be important. We walked until we came to a gazebo filled with lights. We sat. I noticed a small trunk to my left. Father motioned for me to open it.
It was empty, save a single morning glory. I caught my breath, for yesterday I found a single morning glory on my newly planted vines.
I heard Him say,
the Beginning.
Yesterday, here in my home, I sensed the same. The beginning of restoration. It would be a long story to tell here, but morning glories bloomed on the side of the house I grew up in as a little girl. They were the color, the hope in my dark world.
Somehow I know that they were planted by the Lord who saw this day.
He spoke these words eternal.
Beginning.
Restore.
Again.
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