After All This Time

my heart still leaps up

for red rock cliffs

that rise from the river,

still thrills at the way

spruce trees grow

(how do they do it?)

out of near vertical walls,

their evergreen branches

bearing the silver

weight of snow.

The older I get,

the greater my wonder.

The older I get,

the more grateful I am

to rise into morning.

The older I get,

the more I want

to offer my breath

in praise of what is beautiful,

resilient and strong.

The turmoil is all around us,

and yet there is so much

that finds a way

not just to survive,

but to shine.

—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

— Opening poem chosen and read by Nancy L.

With gratitude and praise for the beauty of our church campus…

— Photos and reflection by Nancy L.