Pinning my hopes on Eternity.

The raindrops hang like jewels on the window and it reminds me of England. The colors are muted as morning beams have a filter of cloud blanketing the sky.
I miss my homeland.
Life is a strange, twisting journey across the craggy paths of life. The views are stunning the whole way, if I have eyes to see, but it requires me picking up my head and looking at the panorama of life rather than feeling the blister in my heel.
I've been feeling that blister the past two days and it pounds, demanding my attention, trying to draw me away from seeing the beautiful and knowing the exhilaration of the climb. I want to find a soft place and sit for a while and rest but this path is rocky and hard and requires gritty faith.
So I press on.
And I look for the flowers that grow between the rocks, the determined roots that dig deep in between the hard surfaces and find the soft place to grow:
The laughter in the face of my children.
The way the leaves hang heavy on the branches as they catch the raindrops and bounce, like choreography across wooden limbs.
The tender goodbye from my husband as he leaves for work this morning.

God, you show your love to me in so many ways so why do I ache on the inside?

And the question of joy chases across my mind. Is is possible to press out the sadness and find the fragrance of joy arising?

Oh, my beloved England and beloved family. You are not perfect but how I miss you.














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