The smile
tells me she has had a wonderful day.
She hands something to me, the tiniest of candles with the loveliest
scent. Roses. Fresh cut, spring kissed and I think of her
grandma as I light the match.
My mother
would profess she was no gardener but her roses could have won any county fair. As the breeze would come off the field behind
that old house, roses would fill the air.
A single fragrance, a childhood of memories.
A single fragrance, a childhood of memories.
We are a fragrance. We are the scent and the sight and the breath of God as we travel this journey. Silently we leave something of Him behind… kindness I pray, forgiveness I hope, compassion I try. We are His field, the aroma of glory.
For we are a
fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who
are perishing.
2 Corinthians 2:15
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