Saturday, March 12, 2005

Roanoke... beautiful, and I love it.

This quiet is amazing.

I've been looking forward to a respite from fire engines, incessant jack-hammering, whining shower heads and constant traffic for a couple of weeks now, and I am incredibly grateful for this sabbath.

Little things, like the stillness of this neighborhood at night, are hitting me right in the heart. It might almost be worth the interstate move to have these realizations, to recognize how precious these little things are that make this place Home.

These mountains never fail to calm my soul. I stood at the crest in the road today, drinking in the view, trying to imprint it on my heart so I could carry it back to Georgia with me. But that's impossible. The mountains are stalwart, watching over every move one makes in this valley, a comforting constant presence; but their beauty is fragile, evasive, unwilling to be engraved on anything, much less my shifty heart.

But shifty as it may be, my heart remembers the important things. It's easy for my head to forget how comforting it is to sit in a room with my family, just sitting. My head, busy with theological questions and vocational decisions, can't remind me of the sound of Sue's laughter, Paul's preaching, or Bobby's questions. But my heart remembers.

Sometimes, I wish I could do all the thinking with my heart. Obviously, priorities are much more in order there than in my head.

1 comment:

Beth said...

It's always cool to hear about people's sense of "home." One day I'll post about that. Sometimes I wish I had a hometown, but also I really like having lots of them.
Way to appreciate your life.
Rock on.