Day one hundred and sixty three.

These bright red lilies by our front door were a nice reminder of Pentecost--celebrated fifty days after Easter, this day reminds me that the Holy Spirit is still burning like a fire.

I borrowed this bit of C.S. Lewis from a website:

“When I was an undergraduate in Cambridge, if I were to say that Christ came to me, I should be using conventional words that would carry no precise meaning. For Christ comes to men and women in different ways. When I try to record the experience at that time, I use the imagery of the Vision of the Holy Grail. It seemed to me like that. There was, however, no sensible vision. There was just the room, with its shabby furniture and the fire burning in the grate, and the red shaded lamp on the table. But the room was filled by a presence that in a strange way was both about me and within me like a light or warmth. I was overwhelming possessed by someone who was not myself. And yet, I felt more myself than ever before. I was filled with intense happiness and almost unbearable joy as I had never known before or never known since. And overall, there was a deep sense of peace and security and certainty.” This was Pentecost for C.S. Lewis.