In the written Word or through His servants.
Still, He seeps in through the corners of the world.
In a tree by the river into whose bark one whispers secrets.
Into the hungry eyes of a homeless woman holding her contented child.
Into the unmarried womb of a virgin, to take form as the illegitimate Son of Man.
With His presence He sparks mystery in the ordinary, dignity in suffering sacrifice,
and endows dignity and glory to shame.
[this tiny stone starts mental avalanches from my kitchen windowsill when i wash dishes]