6B Ruby and Ben's Story, Farmers and Small Things

6B Ruby and Ben’s Story, Mark 4:26-34

St. Mark’s June 17, 2018 Father’s Day

Today’s parable is about farmers and seeds and the widespread miracles which happen when the tiniest of things are cared for by something we cannot comprehend. Parables have been described as “stories thrown alongside our lives.”1 So, in an attempt to make any sense out of this story, on this Father’s Day, I would like to share the parable of a father who is one of the few farmers I personally knew who shared with me his and his wife’s  story of their tiniest of  treasures.

“With what can we compare the kingdom of God? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth.”

In 2008, twenty somethings, Elizabeth and Ben, start an organic farm growing flowers and vegetables in an idyllic but remote land along the bluffs of the Buffalo River. The nearest town is Snowball, a 30-minute drive down dirt roads to their farm. They work long, dirty days, planting seeds, building hoop houses, laying irrigation, spreading mulch, and then harvesting, washing vegetables, making bouquets, loading the truck, and taking their produce to market in North Little Rock, two and a half hours away. In between time they go on long hikes down the Buffalo River Trail, or go swimming in the river, or find one of the hidden waterfalls in the forest. They are living a dream. Everything they plant grows. Everything they grow sells. They are happy, hard-working, at peace, and in love. When they find out Elizabeth is pregnant, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. It has not been part of the plan, but this child would be just one more seed for them to nurture.

On a rainy Memorial Day weekend in 2009, Ben with Elizabeth now 24 weeks pregnant, barely half way through the 40-week gestation, and barely showing, learn that life has a way of revising plans. Elizabeth has a few shooting pains, then a few more, then enough for them to take a long drive to the Harrison hospital. Within 24 hours they are in a sterile labor and delivery room, in Little Rock, three hours from Harrison, with a one pound, six-ounce baby named Ruby struggling for life and being cared for by a team of highly specialized doctors and nurses. If they could have held tiny Ruby, she would have fit into the palm of their hand. This is a bewildering, confusing, terrifying event, and the only thing they know for certain is that their life as farmers is over. There is no way they will be able to go back to that life again. Ben recalls a moment in the NICU, surrounded by artificial light, beeping machines, and whirring ventilation systems, with his tiny daughter as he describes her in a plastic box hooked up to at least a dozen tubes and wires, when he sees the blue light bounce off a single speck of dust. He watches that speck float gently through the empty air and thinks about all the dirt, all the life, all the plans that were so recently a part of their lives but are no more.

“With what can we compare the kingdom of God? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth.”/

For the next six months from day to day Ben and Elizabeth do not know if tiny Ruby will live or die, or if she does live,/ what will be her quality of life. Elizabeth and Ben keep as constant a bedside vigil as they can manage, talking to Ruby, reading her books, touching her and holding her hand when they are allowed. Ruby is on the ventilator for four months, has three intestinal surgeries, one heart surgery, three airway procedures, retinopathy of prematurity with detached retina, and a bleed in the brain, all of which resolve. Ben describes it as “quite a minefield she makes her way through!”2

Elizabeth and Ben are in an unfamiliar city, literally homeless in their own way, and must rely on the kindness of an extended network of friends and relatives to have a place to sleep and other support for six months. 2

“when it is sown it grows up and puts forth large branches, so the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

During these months they need some income, so through connections Ben finds a job as a part-time grant writer for a local nonprofit organization.

As the months go by, very slowly Ruby shows signs of improvement. Ben and Elizabeth are able to hold Ruby for the first time, for 15 minutes at a time on their laps/ on a bed with the ventilator still going, but to them they are holding the greatest of treasures. After four failed attempts, Ruby is finally able to get off the ventilator. After three major surgeries, it seems that the lingering issue with her intestines may be resolved. After about five months they begin looking for a place to live in North Little Rock so they can still be close to Ruby’s doctors. This is their final realization that they no longer are going to be farmers.

“With what can we compare the kingdom of God..”

They remember the day they bring Ruby home for the first time. When they hold her for the first time in their living room they describe it as “the quietest place in the universe. Finally, Ruby is free from the noise, the lights, the constant commotion of the hospital.”2 They speak of loving and appreciating Ruby in a way they never would have if they had not experienced the many terrifying months when they were afraid they would lose her. As the years progress, they deeply celebrate every one of Ruby’s milestones: her first steps, her first words, her every word, even her every breath, because they remember when they couldn’t take those breaths for granted.

“”yet when it is sown it grows up and puts forth large branches , so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

Ben pours himself into his work at the nonprofit, finding great purpose in helping other families overcome difficult circumstances. As Grants Manager Ben is able to find new funding to help this organization grow to meet better the needs of hundreds of struggling homeless families in central Arkansas. Elizabeth finds new purpose as well, undertaking the difficult journey of training as a Registered Nurse. She now cares for young babies and their mothers during their first 24 hours of life, in the same hospital where Ruby was born.

 Over time Ben is able to take on greater leadership of the nonprofit, and in 2017, after eight years on staff, Ben is chosen by the Board of Directors of Our House as the new Executive Director, only the third in Our House’s 30-year history, a non-profit which is “helping homeless families find a nest in the shade.”

Ben writes that “compared to the typical family that Our House serves, Elizabeth and I have enjoyed every advantage in the world. We both come from stable middle-class backgrounds,/ we have a very supportive network of family and friends,/ and we have a great relationship with each other. But even with all of these advantages, one adverse experience nearly wrecks our family and our lives. It is only because of the support of family and friends, the wonderful care provided by dedicated medical professionals, and a healthy dose of divine providence that we are able to pull through. I have tremendous respect for the strength and resilience of the families Our House serves. Ultimately what we have in common is greater than what separates us. We all want the best for our children. We all feel tremendous pain when our children suffer and we are unable to help them. And we all need help from others from time to time. Ruby has become our beautiful, intelligent, creative daughter who is a testament to the power of families to overcome difficult circumstances, if they have the support they need from their communities.”2

Two weeks ago Ben and Elizabeth invite us to celebrate Ruby’s 9th birthday with a block party also celebrating the birthday of her younger brother. Matthew, and his story is another parable to save for later!//

So today we have heard two similar parables about farmers and tiny things that grow much bigger than expected, one story two thousand years ago and one just happening in this decade. Let’s go back to the beginning of Ruby’s story and remember what a parable is because our gospel tells us “he did not speak to them except in parables.”/ A parable is a provocative, positive, life-giving story thrown alongside our lives that calls us to make a gestalt shift in the way we see ourselves, God, and others. From the parable we see God’s presence, God’s grace in a new and different light especially in times of darkness. Parables also expose mystery and surprise endings, resurrections, as God redeems our lives.1/ May Ben and Elizabeth and Ruby’s miraculous parable open our eyes and ears to remember/ the redeeming parables of Resurrection/ that play out as well/ in EACH/ of our lives today/ and throughout all eternity./

“With what can we compare the kingdom of God? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth; yet when it is sown, it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth great branches, so the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

1Nibs Stroupe, “Proper 6,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, vol. 3, p. 141.

2Ben Goodwin, His Story

Joanna Seibert joannaseibert.com

Ruby 9 yaars old and brother Matthew

12 Step Eucharist June 6, 2018 5B Genesis 3:8-15 The Fall

12 step Eucharist Wednesday June 6, 2018  5B, Genesis 3:8-15 The Fall

 Frederick Buechner reminds us that “the biblical view of the history of humankind and of each individual man or woman is contained in the first three chapters of Genesis. We are created to serve God by loving God and each other in freedom and joy, but we invariably choose bondage and woe instead/ as prices not too high/ to pay for independence. To say that God drove Adam and Eve out of Eden is apparently a euphemism for saying that Adam and Eve,/ like the rest of us, made a break for it as soon as God happened to look the other way.”

We seem to be hardwired to try to take over control, to be God. This is the direction of most of my sins. As I think of all my offences, the evil I have done, the harm I have done consciously or unconsciously, the friends, the family members I have hurt. I make amends when I can for the harm I have done, but mostly I try to make living amends.\ I want to let others know how I have been loved even when I felt unlovable or did unlovable things.  I want to hold closely the Christ in others and let them know what a treasure they are. I want to be able to see the Christ in others. This is what spiritual friends and those in 12 step recovery are called to do for each other. We affirm, stand by each other./

More often now I am paying it forward. For many reasons I cannot make amends to the person I have harmed but instead I try to show the love I wish I could now give to them to someone else. Paying forward is showing love to someone else that has done nothing for us, especially someone we do not know and often someone who feels loveless.

I try, I judge, I make mistakes, I mess up, I hurt others, I make amends, I try to show love that has been so often unconditionally given to me, and the cycle invariably seems to start all over again. It is a circular path. I try, I mess up, I make amends. It is the human condition. I try to stay connected to this circular pathway of others who know more than I know how to love so that I can learn from them. I try to stick with the winners,  and that is why I am here tonight with all of you, the winners, those whom I can so easily see Christ in you, and occasionally you can see the Christ in me which guides me back onto the path of love.

Today I now learn most about how to love from my six grandchildren. What a circular life, for I first learned about love from my four grandparents many years ago.

 I return to Buechner who so beautifully reminds us that “if God really wanted to get rid of us, (to kick us out of Eden), the chances are/ God would not keep hounding us every step of the way ever since.”

-       Frederick, Buechner, Humankind,  Frederick Buchner Quote of the Day, May 28, 2018. Originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words

 Joanna  joannaseibert.com

Pentecost 2018, May 20, 10 am, St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Newport, Arkansas

Pentecost 2018, May 20 10 am

St. Paul’s Newport

 Acts 2:1-21, John 20:19-23

What a privilege to be here in Newport with you today on the third biggest day of the Christian year. Following Christmas and Easter is the Day of Pentecost, when a gale wind blew through a house on a back street in Jerusalem and equipped Jesus’ disciples with everything they needed to turn the world upside down. It was God’s own breath,/ the Holy Spirit, the most mysterious and least typecast person of the Trinity, the muse and soul of Christ’s church.

We have Christmas pageants and Easter parades, but Pentecost may be the only celebration that Hallmark has not put out a line of cards, and we haven’t yet met anyone who invites friends and family over for Pentecost dinner.

 Perhaps we are spooked by the Holy Spirit. Some of us may even remember when we called it the Holy Ghost, which adds an even more macabre effect. Others have heard enough about what happens in spirit-filled churches to leave Pentecost to the Pentecostals./

Today is the day when Jesus’ disciples receive the miraculous good news that their bodies are about to take the place of Jesus’ body in the world. The same Holy Spirit that has filled him is coming into them, so that they have all the power they need to carry forward his ministry in his name.

The day of Pentecost is also celebrated as the birthday of the church, not any particular church, but the whole state of Christ’s church united by God’s breath /and empowered by God’s Spirit. All over the world today, people are wearing fiery red clothes to church, releasing balloons, reading the gospel in foreign languages, or blowing out candles on a cake in the parish hall that says, “Happy Birthday, Church!” in red frosting./

 If you want to know why a church has a certain personality, find out how that church began. If a particular congregation is founded to oppose something, then you can bet that opposition will remain as part of that church’s DNA and its relationship to the world. If a church is born like St. Paul’s Newport, to embrace something,/ then you can expect to find that inclusive posture passed down to each generation.
That makes it all so interesting why we have two very different birth stories told us this morning. One is from John, and one is told by Luke. The two different stories are written for different times and places and from different theologies.

 John’s story happens on Easter evening while the eleven disciples are locked inside an upper room in a house in Jerusalem. Whenever we experience traumatic events, nighttime takes on new meaning. Ordinary fears are magnified, and we go around locking windows and doors. However, Jesus gets in without a key. He does not need doors and windows. John says he simply “came” and stands among them. “Peace be with you,” he says. Then he shows them his ID, the wounds in his hands and his side.

 Then Barbara Brown Taylor describes Jesus doing something creepy and mystical. He commissions them by breathing on them, opening his mouth and pouring what is inside of him into them so that their hair poofs up and their eyelashes flutter. They can smell where he comes from, not just Golgotha and Galilee, but back before the world was being born. They smell Eden on his breath: salt brine, river mud, calla lilies. Their own lungs fill up with what he breathes out. His breath brings back to life all that fear had killed inside of them. It is the second Genesis, as they are created over again by the power of the Spirit coming out of Jesus’ mouth.

“Receive the Holy Spirit, “Jesus says. With a gentle breath, he transfers his spirit into his disciples, who now become the guardians of that Spirit. According to this Gentle Breath story about the birth of the church, the church has received the Holy Spirit. The world has not. It is the church’s job to carry that Spirit out into the world.

A birth story like this creates a distinctive form of church. Some Gentle Breath congregations forget about the “send” part that Jesus says: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” They like being breathed on so much that they stay right where they are, clapping their hands and praising God for the breeze/ without ever unlocking the door.

 Other congregations do hear the “send” part and take it seriously. In these congregations, each member’s job is to go out into the world and find those who don’t know about the Spirit and bring them back inside the church so they can meet God in person.  

This is a very Jo/han/nine idea of church. There is nothing wrong with it, but it is not the only biblical birthing story of the church. //

 Luke has a different image of the delivery room for the church’s birth in Acts. The disciples are still in a house, but Luke’s story takes place fifty days after Easter instead of on the same day. There are about 120 people crowded in a house instead of 11. The doors and windows are not locked because the people inside know they are waiting for something to come in from outside. According to Luke, the last thing Jesus says is “Stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” While they don’t have a clue what It looks like, they open all of the doors and windows so whatever IT is, can get in.

On the day of Pentecost, “it” turns out to be something even Luke has difficulty describing. It starts with a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it fills the entire house where Jesus’ followers are sitting. Then it bursts into divided tongues like flames above their heads, but when they open their mouths to shout, “Watch out! Your head’s on fire,” different words comes out. It comes out instead, speaking languages that none of those Galileans ever learned. Perfect strangers, foreigners, have to tell them they are talking about God in their native language.  The disciples are behaving so bizarrely under the power of God’s Spirit that the only description some bystanders come up with is drunk.

“They are filled with new wine,” but Peter says no. “Its only nine o’clock in the morning,” and then the Spirit rescues Peter by giving him something to say in his language. He opens his mouth and speaks about an old prophecy from the Hebrew prophet, Joel, who foresees days like this when God’s spirit is poured out upon all flesh,/ not just chosen people, not just eleven male people, not just church people but all people, young, old, male, female, slave, free.

Peter’s proclamation of this prophecy on Pentecost is the sign that EVERYONE upon whom the Spirit has been poured is recruited to spread the word. God’s fiery, transforming spirit is LOOSE in the world, and from this day forth the church’s job is to FAN it, wherever it is found.

In Acts we hear about the birthing of an alternative church, not a Gentle Breath congregation but a Violent Wind congregation, propelled more by God’s sneeze than God’s breath,/ where such a strong wind blows toward the open doors of the church that people must lash themselves to the pews to stay inside. They come back one day in seven to rally, to rest and reflect, but then God’s finger goes back under God’s nose and it is back out into the world again, /not just to take the Spirit out but to discover it in all of the surprising people upon whom it has already been poured.

Members of Violent Wind congregations count on the Spirit to guide them as they go out into the world in search of Holy Fire. They may find it absolutely anywhere: at a disaster relief station, in the beauty parlor of a nursing home, in a prison as is here at Newport, at line at the grocery store, around a family supper table, at a dinner for the homeless, at VBS, at Camp Mitchell.

How do they know when they find it? Wherever the Spirit is, there is heat and light.  People’s lives are being changed around that fire, and they are so excited about what is happening to them that they sound positively sloshed, only it is not new wine they are drunk on but God’s own spirit, so generous that it cannot be contained by any human institution.

One of the worst things that Christians have ever done is to reduce the word “church” to mean a building, or one group of people who meet inside that building. We can imagine trying to explain this to the violent wind God by saying, “Honey, I shrunk the church.”/////

As different as John and Luke’s church birth stories are, what they share in common is that the church doesn’t have to have a sign out front, a Sunday school, a copy machine, or adequate parking, although these things certainly help. All it has to have are some people with a story about how their life together began, and what it is like to be LOCKED UP, short of breath, waiting for God knows what ./  They do know what it is like to be revived by some mysterious divine breath,/ whether it comes as gently as a sigh, or so violently that it turns the furniture upside down./

Best case scenario, most churches have an obstetrical team trained in both Pentecost deliveries./

These stories do not give us a clue where God’s wind is going, but they do tell us that God gave the church to the world; not to possess the Spirit/ but to be servant ministers for the Spirit, out in the WORLD, wherever the Spirit calls and leads us. Happy Pentecost!

      Barbara Brown Taylor, “God’s Breath,” Journal for Preachers, Pentecost 2003, pp 37-40.

Joannna joannaseibert.com

Easter 6B 12 Step Eucharist, Love One Another

Easter 6B 12 Step Eucharist, St. Mark’s Episcopal Church  John 15:9-17, May 6, 2018

Little Rock, Arkansas

An Improvisation on Love in 3 Acts

Act I The Present: On our way here tonight

“Love one another. “

A Little Rock police officer pulls over a car on Mississippi just as the car approaches Evergreen. He asks the driver for his license and registration. “What’s wrong, officer?” the driver asks. “I certainly am not speeding.”

“No,” says the officer, “but I saw you giving that obscene gesture as you swerved around the woman driving in the left lane. Then I saw your flushed and angry face as you shouted at the driver in the Hummer who cut you off.”

“Is that a crime, officer?”

“No, but when I saw the St. Mark’s ‘Love’ bumper sticker on your car, I decided, “This car must be stolen!”

Act II

“No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

Just over eleven years. Monday, April 16, 2007, Blacksburg, Virginia, VPI campus, Room 204, Norris Hall.

Liviu Librescu, 76, a senior researcher and lecturer in engineering, a native of Romania and a Holocaust survivor begins his class in solid mechanics. Mr. Librescu and his class hear shooting in a nearby room.  The professor blocks the door to prevent the gunman from entering. Students take cover underneath desks and others leap out of windows. Professor Librescu never moves from the door even as the gunman, Cho Seung-Hui, continues shooting through the door. Directing his students to escape through windows, Professor Librescu is fatally shot by five bullets.

By blocking the door with his body, he saves all the students in his classroom.

32 students and teachers are killed. A 76-year-old Romanian Jewish refugee saves 21 of his students. Ironically the murder takes place on Holocaust Remembrance Day (Yom HaShoah).

Act III  Scene 1

The Past: Almost 20 centuries ago

“Love one another.”

The last supper is over.  Everyone’s feet are clean.  Jesus’ hands are wrinkled after washing all of them as he begins his Farewell Discourse.1 Jesus’ family is gathered around him as he reads the traditional last testament given by the head of a household before he dies.  “Little children, I am with you only a little longer. I give you a new commandment:  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”

Jesus goes on like this for four whole chapters in John, telling his disciples at least 15 times about a new kind of love, not the ethical demand to love one’s neighbor, but to love one’s enemies, taking risks and making sacrifices to benefit OTHERS, even if we think these people do not deserve our love. Loving is the only commandment that Jesus explicitly insists his disciples keep. Ignoring it is not an option.2

Act III Scene 2  The Present one more time.

“Love one another.”

Frederick Buechner writes about four loves.3 “First there is the love for equals as a human being. This was Liviu Librescu’s love. Second there is the love for the less fortunate. This is compassion. We see this daily here in so many of you who care for those at the Food Pantry, for sponsors helping those in AA and Alanon recovery. Third, there is a rare form of love for the more fortunate, a desire for the wellbeing and love for those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy, a love of the poor for the rich. This is the love of saints.

Fourth and finally, there is the love for the enemy, a desire for the wellbeing for those who mock, threaten and inflict pain on us. The desire of the tortured for the well being of the torturer. This is the love that Jesus taught and lived and died and resurrected. This is God’s love, Jesus’ love. It alone can conquer the world.”/

My prayer is that we will approach those who differ from us and say: "I agree with almost nothing you are advocating. I see God, the world, and our faith through a different lens than you do./ But I know that God loves us both, /and that Christ lives within both of us.   My prayer is that the love that initially is an action, not a feeling, will come alive in my heart and the hearts and minds of each of us starting this very moment, this very night. This can happen.  You in recovery know the secret. For these next 30 days we pray daily not only for those we love and those less fortunate, but we also pray for those more fortunate and also pray for those with whom we disagree and those who do us harm. At month’s end those with opinions different from us may not change, but I can promise you that God will change us.

1Barbara Taylor Brown, “Good News for Orphans,” Gospel Medicine, pp. 79-83.

2Susan Palo Cherwien, Reflections on the Lectionary, Christian Century, April 29, 2015. P. 21.

 3Frederick Buechner, Listening to Your Life, pp. 242, 302, 303.  

12 Step Eucharist, Luke 11: 14-23, The Mute and The Hound of Heaven

12 Step Eucharist Luke  11:14-23, Jesus, the Mute, the Hound of Heaven

Wednesday, March 7, 2018 5:30 pm

Jesus seems attracted to demons like a cadaver-sniffing Scotch collie. He smells them out and they without question know his scent as well. Previously in Luke, Jesus casts out a demon who came out of a man  in the synagogue in Capernaum/ on the Sabbath no less.  He casts out the multiple demons named Legion from the man in the tomb bound with chains and shackles and kept under guard in the country of the Gerasenes. As soon as Jesus reaches the bottom of the mountain where he was transfigured to a dazzling white, he sniffs out and rebukes a demon who also immediately picks up Jesus’ scent and convulses a young boy to the ground. Jesus releases the cruel demons in the daughter of the Syrophoenician woman after her “crumbs for the dogs under the table” answer which prompts Jesus to extend his ministry to Gentiles, and of course Jesus cures Mary Magdalene of not one/ but seven demons.    

Tonight, Jesus casts out only a single demon from a person who is unable to speak. Usually those who cannot speak have the root cause of deafness as well. Since they have never heard speech, they cannot imitate the sounds. They most often have an amazing mind, but people think they are useless, “dumb” is the word, because their thoughts and intelligence are locked up inside of them like a bank vault with no combination. We can understand how the crowd is amazed when they hear the man or woman in our story now freely speak and communicate.

Perhaps classic movie fans have seen Johnny Belinda where Jane Wyman plays an isolated small-town Canadian woman who is deaf and cannot speak and is branded the unfortunate word, “the village idiot.”  Wyman is healed of her demon as she is taught by her country doctor, Lew Ayres, how to communicate with newly developed sign language. Wyman never speaks in her academy award winning performance and expresses herself with her hands in this classic 1948 movie about prejudice!/

Of course, we have another chance to experience what it is like to be mute in this year’s academy award winning best picture, the fantasy drama, The Shape of Water, where a sea creature  heals a mute “woman” named Elisa.  

 But let’s leave the movies and first century Palestine and think about

where in our culture/ today are we mute and deaf and in need of healing? People in addiction cannot speak their truth and are mute because of the anesthesia brought on by drugs, alcohol, commercialism, materialism, or whatever is filling their God hole. I lost my voice when I became an alcoholic. I knew I could not speak out or otherwise people would know I had been drinking too much. Some addicts and alcoholics become loud and noisy, but what they say makes no sense. They also are mute and indeed do say and do “dumb” things./

Lent is a special season of the year where we are to ponder where we have been deaf and have not heard the truth, have been mute to the messages from God about being the person God created us to be./

We do not have to live with our demons. There is a way out. For those caught in addiction, people all over the world are recovering, being healed, in the 12-step program offered here tonight. /

 Maybe some of us are deaf and mute to the needs of others around us who are suffering, and we have not spoken out with our voices and our hands and our feet against their injustices.  Maybe because of our social disease of busyness, some of us are deaf to those we live or work with, and have been mute, not telling them how much we care or love them./

Jesus is here tonight to remind us that the finger of God can not only cast out demons in first century Palestine but also in the twenty-first century Little Rock, on the other side of the scientific revolution.

Keep remembering that is why we are “gathered” here with him at this table tonight, asking that the Christ within us  release the demons that keep us from forgiving others and ourselves, the demons that keep us from asking for forgiveness for the harms we have done to others. Christ, “the Hound of Heaven,” 1 has stopped to rest here, waiting to heal these demons.  We are at the right place. We only have to turn around/ and realize that it has been the outstretched finger of Love relentlessly following after us all along.      

1Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven.

Joanna  joannaseibert.com