Last night across the ocean, Great Britain experienced a flood crisis. The war in Syria droned on. Eight people were killed at a religious gathering in Pakistan. Iran moved a fleet of warships near US borders. And here, we came home from church, spiritually fed, to our little oasis of pasture land and oak trees and seventy-two degree weather and the sun shining. Nathan made us lunch from vegetables that lived out their lives in our own front yard. Maggie teetered around in the grass on newly walking feet. Stella rolled in the leaves. We all sat in a spot of sunlight and shared two oranges and watched the baby calves play and the horses eat moss.
My girls, what a bounteous, oblivious existence we live. The world is changing all around us. Darkness is spreading and you are growing and will someday understand the battles that were fought while you were rolling in the leaves. If I could only sew onto your hearts a pocket of this warmth, and peace, and an assurance that you are completely loved. If you could only remember it is there, always. And choose to open it up and believe it when your world gets dark.
I can't protect you forever, but I want you to know that inner peace is possible when outer peace isn't. And that you are completely loved.
This entry is part of an "11 on 11" series I'm participating in with some really lovely people: Sara Kaleho (MN), Sanna Lee (MN), Marie Sant (UT), Kelly Sweda (CA), Brandi Tejeda (CO) and Corey Villicana (CA). We all post 11 photos on the 11th of each month, just for fun.
To continue along the blog circle, check out Sara's entry here.