After a few days in New Orleans–where we were awakened in the night by water trucks hosing down the streets—and a couple nights at Pensacola beach—where we were awakened by thunder and laughing youths…what a blessing to awaken on Saturday morning to the sound of songbirds in the trees outside my window.
We drove nine hours on Friday to meet up with some friends in the Great Smoky Mountains.
Our final stop on the birthday trip.
As the familiar slope of landscape and burgeoning forest pass by me in the windows, I am left in the wake of a tidal wave of homesickness. We are getting closer to home.
One more day to get to my boys.
God blesses abundantly. Spending our last night of vacation with dear friends—such a sweet way to close. But the next morning was even sweeter.
That morning, when I hear the birds, I slip out of bed and onto the balcony—and into the clouds.
The misty morning air around me white, trees ghostly pale below…
I am one with the air–breath mingling with pines, thin wisp rising in white—heart beating with the thrum of a nearby woodpecker…
It stills me.
Our cabin is three stories high and I look down into the trees, over the valley to neighboring mountain.
I think of all the mountain journeys in the Bible.
And I know I have been on one of my own.
My God met me there, in the clouds on that mountain.
I ached with loving Him as I stood in the treetops.
The loneliness for my boys, this new tender love for my husband, this quiet joy of good and godly friendships…
They all passed away.
And I knew Iwas home.