The first time I saw this white wooden church
I gasped in amazement at its beauty.
It started out as a simple chapel built in the 1700s –
And then in the mid-1800s, it was expanded
And the old clock tower replaced with a new one.
The white wooden planking,
The delicate leaded windows –
Such simple and exquisite beauty
Iced with snow and love.
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Dawn unfurled its tender hand
To reveal a wondrous
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At dawn, the old stone church across the lake bathes in golden light –
Amazing to think that 800 years ago, someone looked at a pile of rocks
And saw how they could be transformed into something so much greater than the sum of their parts.
And as the sun sets,
Don’t ask what the meaning of the birdsong or the setting sun is,
Just enjoy the beauty and let them be.
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I came across two abandoned bags on the worn steps of an old church
And stopped to wonder:
Is there anything quite as sad as loving someone who has stopped loving you?
Love lost somewhere between altar and reality,
Abandoned on church steps
Along with the rice, the scattered hopes, that once promised so much.
I saw Love up close, there in the rice on the church steps,
Worn with feet eager for love.
Bride and groom departed;
Bags left there in haste.
No time for anything but each other.
December is a time of magical snowflakes, soft candlelight, sweet songs and even sweeter gingerbread…
The Swedes love gingerbread, but not gingerbread men with their eyes of icing sugar. No, they put together simple or elaborate houses made of gingerbread, stuck together with burnt sugar and topped with hard white icing. After New Year, they hold parties where they dance around the tree to say good-bye to it and then they break the gingerbread houses made so lovingly – and eat them.
We have a new bakery in town – with the most delightful display in the window. Our old church (nearly 1,000 years old in fact) has been immortalized in gingerbread and icing sugar!
What I love about this picture is that you can see the reflection of the actual physical church in the window.
I wish you all a delightfully sweet Christmas!
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A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.
Antoine De Saint-Exupery
This is the Divine Temple, Hari Mandir, at the centre of the Golden Temple of Amritsar in India.