What a majestic scene. The rugged hills on the horizon frame the grassy rolling vale in stark contrast. Ancient oaks stand like naked soldiers on guard amongst the boulders strewn about the valley. Their branches bear the scars of time. They’ve weathered many a storm. There is beauty in the harshness of this wintery view. As I’m watching, a thin sliver of white appears above the hills. It grows as the angst in my heart deepens. The storm clouds are once again gathering on my horizon. Another storm is building, one we’ve been watching it form from afar and now it’s drawing close. There will be no “blindside” this time. No, we’ve been waiting and wondering about when. And once again, I see my feelings reflected in the panorama surrounding me. It speaks the words I cannot say, it reflects truth I cannot know. It portrays the depth and breadth of the “too much” that I cannot hold, nor let go. It’s as if in His great compassion, God is says, “I see you” “I know.” He shows me who I am. Bu