I’ve been away from my computer. No wifi. No internet. It’s been a good vacation. So I’ve been with my good old pen and paper, thinking and writing. Over the next few days, I thought I’d share the overflow of my heart from the last few weeks.
I walk in a fresh dawn, long shadows gathering in the infant light. It is my birthday and I am in Ohio. I’ve returned to my place of beginnings.
Drops of morning glass are strung on every blade of grass. Mist rolls on distant hills. Geese rise in the eastern sky.
I walk on the gravel road and I study the incongruities. The fragile beauty of Queen Anne’s lace unfolds alongside a raw and rugged path. A verdant meadow is framed by a rusted gate and sharp barbs on a wire. Life is like this–a weaving together of golden moments along a rocky road.
Yet on this day, back home in Vermont, my dear friends are walking through a dark valley. They are laying a beloved son and brother into the Everlasting Arms. The barbs of sorrow pierce deep into soul’s skin.
My heart is in two places at once. I cannot be there to share in the grief. In this way, I feel lonely. I am enfeebled by miles between us. Yet in another way, in the mystery of grace, I know that the Spirit of God can redeem my tears and prayers. He can shape them into lavish love poured upon the farm on Cilley Hill.