My heart still flutters every time I see the Paramount. Austin has been a sacred place to till the soil of my soul. God is doing a backbreaking work in me, and though my warm earth is disturbed and the worms are wriggling in protest, I know it will produce a harvest thirty, sixty, even a hundredfold. Stubborn seeds are finally bursting below the surface, sending out tender tendrils in the promise of spring. I pray that sun and rain would soak this ground and make it holy, fit for barefoot walking with the One I love.