At my core, underpinning and mocking my questions is the belief–in my very pores, in my skin, in the blood that runs through my veins, it would seem, and in the voice that whispers solemnly in my inmost being, that even if the questions be dizzying, even if the world feels rocked on it's very foundations, I know…KNOW…that God exists, that he is real, that Jesus is both the Son of God and fully God, that his sacrificial death and exultant resurrection are true and that I believe this. It is the rock of my faith, of my life, of my hope, and none of my questions, none of my doubts, none of my worries can loosen that which is woven into my very being.
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Kolyada celebration 110 km outside of Minsk.
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Men line up to take an icy dip on Epiphany.
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Elderly woman takes part in Eastern Orthodox service.
Paint the world with color,
against a pale, frail sky.
Blackened ruby, amber gold,
with silver trunks of brown-tipped lye.
Paint the fading grasses
in greens and rust and yellow,
then wash the colors ‘til they’re
rendered softly, warmly mellow.
significanttrivialities 