It's been nearly a month since my last post because I've been gallivanting around the country on a whirlwind of summer fun that is not yet quite over. I've been to the flooded north woods of Wisconsin (at least they were when I was there), and I've just returned from the great beauty of the Colorado wilderness (although actual wildlife sightings were somewhat rare). And I have really loved *almost* every minute of the generally quite peaceful journey. There were, admittedly, a few times that I found myself slipping back into a wound-tight-like-in-the-real-world attitude, but I did my best to break free of the confines of the rush and run to just enjoy being for a while. Overall, it was just a wonderful time. A time that I truly felt bathing, swimming, submerged completely in love. God's love. Family's love. Friends' love. What a peace.
But the one thing, ironic as it may be, that everyone says after returning from vacation, is that it's so very good to be home. There's generally no, Let's stay for three more weeks! No. There's a different kind of peace, separate from the vacation kind, that one finds upon their return to what they left behind. And although my garden, flower beds, yard, dust, dishes, and laundry all cry out for my attention, there still remains a feeling of peace. God made the whole world for me to explore and enjoy, to clamour upon and run around, to try to capture in photos and memories, but this...This here, he set aside just for me. It's the place that I get to call my home. And I so grateful for the blessing of it, the sight of it, the comfort of it.
