Once again, the thunder and the lightning remind us of the flash and bang of war.
The smell of roasting steaks and ribs. . .
The memories of those long gone. . .
The hope of peace yet to be.
Maybe we should remember those who died in the struggle for peace.
The simple smiles when everyone was jeering. . .
The gentle word when everyone was snarling. . .
The hopeful word when everyone was frightened. . .
The trusting word when there was no trust.
Watch carefully as they assemble their services. . .
celebrating another kingdom - quite of this world.
Listen hopefully as you hear the trumpets of the real kingdom. . .
blowing softly in the breezes, moved along by angels' wings.
