Dove language
Walking With the Living World: My Story, My Ministry, My Remembering There are some stories we choose, and some stories that choose us. Mine has always felt like the latter—whispered by animals, carried by wind, and etched into my bones long before I had language for it. I grew up listening to things most people overlook: the hush between a dove’s wingbeats, the way a horse exhales when it trusts you, the subtle shift in the air before a message arrives. As a child, I scribbled symbols I didn’t yet understand—hieroglyphic shapes, prophetic lines, maps of a world I hadn’t lived but somehow remembered. I didn’t know then that these were the first threads of a lineage that would one day become my ministry. Today, I live and work on a ranch where the sacred is not an idea—it’s a presence. The animals here aren’t metaphors or props; they are collaborators, teachers, and companions. The land itself is a listening body. The wind carries stories. The moon keeps time. And every readin...
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