Grace like a window, streaming light,

Illuminating a room, but we often see the contents,

Not what lets us see.

 

Grace is love,

Transmitted from God to meet our daily needs,

Knowing others care, reminding us of gifts received,

Letting us know He is there for us. Always.

 

Can grace be felt?

Sometimes, when not taken for granted,

Always, when we don’t.

We feel grace when we give to others, with an open heart,

When we receive without expectations or judgment.

 

That warm feeling in the pit of our stomach,

When we are sure someone loves us completely,

Without restriction, without conditions,

As a parent, or friend, who would lay down their life for you.

 

As Jesus did for us all.

 

Bill’s Garden is near a beach,

Filled with flowers of all seasons,

Colors, shapes and sizes.

A garden of inclusion,

One of beauty,

But most of all one to be shared,

With all those around him, those who know him.

 

For Bill is a garden of friendship.

 

Nicely blurred, light streams into a room,

Not just illuminating, any window could do that,

But softening, making it warm yet bright.

Whoever invented fluorescent light,

Artificial in all its fake glow,

Must never has seen the light from this window.