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August’s riot is underway: black-eyed susans with clusters of golden-blackness erupting from formal gardens, country roadsides, and cracks in pavements. Hearty, boisterous, the wildflowers appear like gossips, their petelled heads leaning toward one another, with occasional breezes disturbing the configurations. At intervals, snappish rainstorms pelt the flowers, affixed to thick hairy stems. With the sun’s reappearance, the resulting mishmash slowly diminishes, and the gossips resume their chatter, with even more verve.

With the advent of autumn, black-eyed susans lose their petals, their cone centers hardening with seeds, with promise of spring’s proliferation. Even their colors lend their gold to maples, aspens, and tulip trees; to waning sunlight outlining blackened limbs.

And another year passes. This has been a good one.

At 6:15 A.M., I awoke with these dreams:

I’ve joined a large group of animated women who are working for global peace. All wear dresses made of the same cotton fabric: blue with pastel flowers. My A-line dress with the scalloped hem fits perfectly.

The first dream emerging from my unconsciousness describes the total engagement of a large group of animated women, each distinct, but focused upon achieving global peace. I’m honored to be identified among them. Their task is daunting: developing relationship skills among all individuals and nations. Only heartfelt prayer can bring this about. Yet, this is happening and has been for all millennia. Planet Earth still survives, with yet another spring’s coloring.

A tall strong man hurries in my direction intent upon harming me. I see him and call out to him: “Such dithering nonsense! There’s nothing you can do to upset me. Besides, you’re not a man—Just a large fish, with scales scintillating in the sun. Quite distinctive, actually.”

The second dream depicts an ugly man, a nasty scoundrel: Scowling eyes, beefy biceps, and ropy muscles that ripple with each stride in hot pursuit of me. For some reason, I hold my ground and wait as he morphs into a large fish, with scales scintillating in the sun; their beauty stuns me.  

The Fish looks back at me and knows I’ve identified with its Greek equivalent icanthus: acronym standing for the ancient Christian symbol meaning Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior.  

Admittedly, such a tall strong man can accompany death’s assault upon body-mind-spirit, mine included, but it’s all a ruse. Beneath, lies release and eternal life, its foreshadowing, a welcome reprise as I wait.

Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.”

And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the third day.

From Genesis 1:11 – 13

We give thanks …

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