It meets my need for connecting, expressing, celebrating life, and enjoying community.
There has been a prolonged absence of the innkeeper, me. I've had a tumble physically. I'm not who I once was, mentally, physically.
But only sometimes do I find myself there.
Writing at this moment is like pulling up the piano bench and playing away on a sturdy instrument that provided hours of musical reverie while growing up in a less-than-ideal home, my experience as a child and youth
Thank you, for being faithful and connecting with me.
I miss you who live sin the Netherlands, with whom I once knew well. In the halls of my mind, I remember past energetic and wide-ranging conversations. I value the poetry we created for one another, the moments shared are cherished and especially valued.
I am aware each time you drop by.
"God gave us memories so that we can
remember roses in December."
James Barrie
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I am not who I was a year ago. I wasn't much reactive then. Now, even less so. But I continue to enjoy life richly.
I remain grateful.
I am leaving my thanks and will come back to this later. My bed is calling me. I'm bushed.
1. I continue to value poetry. Last week, I celebrated a good friend's birthday. I treated him at a nearby restaurant.
From my slender, black carrying bag I pulled out a large book of poetry, reading an entry about old friends, of which he was.
How often do we do that, nowadays?
When I was done, I was more relaxed than before I started.
I am thankful for calligraphy, flat-edged fountain pens that create thick and thin lines and making time to connect with someone dear.
3. I am thankful for sharing this time with you. Please pray I will resume my old practice of tending to this inn of praise and thankfulness more frequently.
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