Our Blessed Life

Thursday, November 03, 2011

Day 2

Thank you, Father... for home.

For strong refuge against gusty winds that billowed early morning before the sun, when the hard-working-one had long left for work.

For warmth inside walls of imperfection.

Cracked and cobwebbed.  Handprinted and smeared. Paint too tired to keep its luster.

For happiness amidst clutter of grand proportions.

For littered and forgotten floor, upon which happy ones play and dance and 'skate' in socked feet.

For table scratched and dented.  Ridden with memories of meals and family and games and learning.  Never empty.  And too small now, for its many guests clamoring around in mismatched seating.

For mounds of laundry so lofty and rife, it leaves wonder if small village is left without covering.

For countertops never empty.  And sinks even more so.

For bathrooms never fit for magazines... or guests.  Tissue roll ever waning, waste pail overflowing.  Toothpaste splattered mirrors.  

For beaten couches and loved-worn blankets never refolded.  For books always escaping their nest.

For the peaceful, fleeting feeling of something dusted or swept... only to be lived in again.

Thank you for home.


  • At 1:39 PM, Blogger Jo said…

    Yes, so thankful for home. Your words are so very beautiful. I love reading them.

  • At 2:52 PM, Blogger Micah said…

    this post makes me feel all warm and cozy... :) a blessed life indeed.

  • At 8:09 PM, Blogger Hollie Carson said…

    my word, never knew you were such a writer. your writings are so beautiful. I love how descriptive they are, to the point where I can see the images in my mind, my own images of home. Love them all. For me to write something like this, it would take LOTS of concentration, LOTS of time, LOTS of quiet. I know you don’t have LOTS of any of that. It’s just that you’re blessed and words flow freely from your pen. I love your gift!


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