Her world is full of irony as her wishes somehow become misdirected realities of unquenchable release.
She finds her deepest conversations alone during a mid-morning walk, her greatest friends are those who see her through every season: the blossom of the spring flower, the cicadas loud cry in the summer, the crispness of a leaf in the fall, and the smoothness of an icicle reaching down in the winter.
These are her consistencies, these are her faithful companions--the things she captures and surrounds herself with in her moments of loneliness when the noise becomes too much.
Nature's beauty, its rawness, its vulnerability to conditions beyond its control--its unique ability to be faithful without reason, to be beautiful without help, and to speak to her soul without words.
She never feels alone in this quiet stillness because it is in this moment her head and her heart listen to something beyond the audible, beyond the sensational, and beyond the approachable--is is in this moment that she is humbled to hear what God has to say to her beyond what mere words can capture.
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