blue lips can bring forth a song (and the meek shall inherit the earth.)

It is nighttime now, and birds were still twittering as the evening slowly came to town. A careful green decorates the trees now, still discrete, but losing its timidity more and more with each passing day. (When I will return to this town, I probably will not be able to recognize the tree in front of my window -- it will have put on a new dress.)

Spring has arrived with all its force now, and the breeze gently carries my thoughts away -- right now, to France, where my love rests his head these days.
Vacation is almost over, and a car pulls to the side of the road.

Tonight, we sang and drank wine, laughed and sat silent. Four girls. A-capella. Four voices, lifting up songs to the Lord.
Blue lips, forming words and a melody.


There is a lullaby that I know from my childhood, and everytime we sing together, it has to be sung. I learned the words by heart when I was very little, by singing it again and again, so many nights before I went to bed. I had never understood them, they hardly made any sense in that old and rusty German that didn't fit my everyday language.
I rediscovered that song about half a year ago. The words hold so much meaning. They hit so deep.


Wenn dein Aug ob meinem wacht / wenn dein Trost mir frommt / weiß ich, dass auf gute Nacht / guter Morgen kommt.

Come here and I'll sing it to you.
Rest your lovely head upon a pillow, I'll sing and watch you fall asleep.



My heart is overflowing with joy. God constantly pours out blessings over us, but only lately have I been awake enough to see.


Easter is close, I will be allowed to enjoy coffee again, and I can hardly wait for the greeting on Sunday morning at church:
"The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!"

(Der Herr ist auferstanden! Er ist wahrhaftig auferstanden!)


But before, Good Friday.
(O how happy I am to know what will come on Sunday.)



and in all of this, blue lips can bring forth a song, and the meek shall inherit the earth.