We went out into the yard to give root to the Leland Cypress.
A place to grow long and grab hold and soak up what gives life.
The dirt barely broke when the pointed iron went in.
Just crumbled.
Not wanting to make room.
Push after push,
stomp after stomp,
the dirt gave up a little more,
opening itself up and making room for what is to be.
“Do you think Jesus ever dug holes?” I whispered.
“I think He still does”, he responded.
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