readers & writers, welcome! thank you for stopping in. this will likely be my last post until january 3, though i may be able to pop in while our family's on vacation. while i'm away, feel free to read or write on this or any photo in the archives.
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for this week, a blessing to go with this photo of a painting done by my husband's grandmother Constance ~ long gone to be with the angels. the words of this blessing, drawn from the daily prayer of a celtic community in chatton, ireland, sing out my wish for you, and for the whole wide world.
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May the peace of the Lord go with you,
wherever he may send you.
May he guide you through the wilderness,
protect you through the storm.
May he bring you home rejoicing
at the wonders he has shown you.
May he bring you home rejoicing
once again into your doors.
I was worn.
ReplyDeleteIn the stillness of my loft with sun warming my skin... I could barely move. The ache was tearing at my muscles and moist warm red flowed across my eyebrows and into my eyes. It was a horrible way to wake up. The shadow of a person who did this had moved in silence, swift and purposeful. The blows had come in succession all over and all I could do was roll out of bed and thrash out. And then it had stopped, and I was still alive. I lay there maybe ten minutes just bleeding and breathing. Willing myself to open my eyes. To see if more of the attack was coming.
I lay there alone in the shining warmth of the morning.