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Posts Tagged ‘British Isles’

We’ve arrived.

Took months to get us here, it seems.

Passport renewals and plane tickets.

Hunting out the next size up of clothes for the boys (all three of them, and this new little one who will arrive while we are here).

Cleaning the house in the way that only a nesting mother-to-be can do.

Packing and nesting and saying “See you next spring,” to our friends.

And up until the last two weeks, immersing myself for an hour each day back in 1941.

And it was tiring.

I was tired.

Tired like an addict of some sleep-inducing drug.

But planes and newborn babies, they don’t tend to wait.

And so I pressed through, and I made it, and we’re here.

We’ere here!

Scotland.

Scotland, which was home for eight years, and now hasn’t been for three.

Scotland, where everything is dear and familiar, strange and new.

Even after all that time, the hills never disappoint me.

Never seem less beautiful than ever they were.

And I can never help but think that all of this–all of this crossing of oceans–must mean something. Must DO something, deep inside of me.

Because it always has.

But when you’re away, out of your routine, it’s easy to forget the working, the striving, and try to get by just sailing for a while. And sometimes you still learn this way. Sometimes the haphazard can still help you grow. But I don’t want to leave it to chance.

I’ve got people. Dear ones. They need me at my best.

And though in the rush of the sea I hear the whisper of my Maker calling, it can be hard to hear His voice amongst so many other things that charm. Here in this place that always stirred my heart.

But hearts, as you know, are not always true. They can lead us on a merry dance.

And so while I want to savour each misty hill, each cup of tea, each warm embrace of a dear friend, I want to end this journey with a clearer eye, a clearer vision, and a closer walk with my Saviour than when I began.

Join me? 

Walk with me?

Let’s see where this road goes . . . 

CAM01834

 

 Our view from the house

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