I have written here before of my practice of collecting serendipitous signs, missives of redemption God generously mails to forgetful souls desperately seeking reminders. Yesterday, I awoke knowing it was going to be a “bad ” day, a day to which all shoulder-surgery victims can attest – a day when the zinging pain starts throbbing not long after you get out of bed. (Such days come for many of us not recovering from surgery too). I popped a few pills designed to chase the pain off and robotically began the process of breakfast. Too tired to notice, I might have missed the deep purple bruised heart God left for me in the microwave if I weren’t so practiced in my heart-searching habits. But as I went to grab my over-melted blueberries, there it was, God’s message to me, that seemed to say, ” I know, and I am here.” a spilled blueberry heart to remind me of the blood my Savior shed for me, that new life might breathe life into a dry-boned woman.

“For if othe blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with pthe ashes of a heifer, sanctify6 for the purification of the flesh, 14 how much more will qthe blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit roffered himself without blemish to God, spurify our7 conscience tfrom dead works uto serve the living God.” Hebrews 9:14-15

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