With origins, presents, and futures, it’s hard to say what we are, until we see, the entire story (of a person, city or nation). Wisdom hangs out at the cross roads for a reason.

Impossible to treat a single person in ease-ie, without perceiving the need of knowing the whole undertow of their story. Who am I to presume you are not much more than a blade of grass in wind.

You are seasons gathered in wrinkles across time into some composite of His Glory- a story He has been willing to tell from the start. And I am perceiving you. Who am I?