
Posted on March 15, 2017 by Aisha North • Bente Amundsen
Drip. Drip. Drip. Life. Motion. Even in the bitter cold. Water keeps flowing. No matter what. The shroud of ice covering the small stream grows thicker. Wider. Day by day. Because the water never stops. Drop by drop. Hour after hour. A trickle. But a steady one. Of life. A force of nature. Powerful enough to flow through any drought. Or cold. Because it comes all the way from Source. The one that never runs dry.