Now Are The Golden Days I Long For
It’s late on a Friday afternoon. Past-time for me to pull the Italian meatballs simmering in the Crock-pot, add them to fresh bakery rolls, and toast them with provolone cheese for a warm, simple, end-of-week meal. I found myself in need a nap as the clock rolled towards 3, and so I slipped into bed with my comforting dog and a whirring fan to sink into reprieve from all the work of running a home and guiding the education of my sons. I am now awake, meatballs calling, but choosing to lie here pondering the deeper thoughts of the grounding and stability of this particular shelter, my yellow home, and yet also hearing echoes in my soul of the beauty of my childhood farm, the original Golden home of my life. Aching in my soul for the beauty that was, the Greater that is to come. I look out my bedroom window in the midst of my brooding, to notice through the trees, far on the other side of the pond, a pair of boys, my son with a friend, rooted on the dock, Golden sun spotlighting the...
