Relief from political distress, day 99…

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This morning at church, our Deacon talked about death and how when we die, all we take with us are the scars we bore–like Christ. All of our possessions won’t mean a thing when we’re dead.

Then I looked at this dead cone flower. Devoid of seeds and pollen,  and realized its beauty isn’t measured by what remains, but rather what was created by its life.. Life from life…

And life is beautiful when your willing to open your eyes…

even at the end of life there's beauty...

even at the end of life there’s beauty…

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