The Holy Spirit is the first firefly

This year I caught a glimpse of the first firefly next to a pile of refuse near our back gate, blinking beautifully and hopefully in an abandoned place. When we celebrate Pentecost we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit. The disciples gathered in prayer, hidden in a room, in fear. While there may have been hope and expectation, it was likely tentative. I imagine it felt like an abandoned place. Into that place of fear and disorientation came a blinking light. A flicker of flames amidst a rush of wind.

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