… for the Promised Land

*Dumping a wheel-barrel load of yard debris in a wash-out in the edge our woods, I found small, pink-blossomed trees.   Lovely, delicate little flowers, which we’ve never noticed before, though we’ve lived here five springs. 

*The other night I parallel-parked for the first time in my life, and it worked.  But before it worked, it was not working very well, and that was when my former piano professor saw me trying to park.  Laughing at oneself is excellent. 

*Today I baked bread.  A satisfying process: first the smooth, round lump of dough rising beneath a red-plaid towel, then the two loaves growing crusty in the oven, filling the house with their wholesome, brown scent, and then the neat slices, taken from baskets and spread with butter on blue-edged plates … 

*Children yesterday brought their immense word-searches to my desk: “I can’t find ‘tomohawk’; I can’t find ‘adult’.”  As though, I, their teacher, could explain the rule by which ‘tomohawk’ is discovered as easily as I might explain addition.   I was able to explain, however, that changing an “X” to an “L” in order to find and circle the word “evil” is not the proper way.

*Old friends are visiting.  We meet seldom now, and live far apart; yet we travel the same way, all casting our eyes toward Canaan, Emmanuel’s land, where glory dwells.  And gladness.

All o’er those wide, extended plains
Shines one eternal day.
There God the Son forever reigns
And scatters night away!
~Samuel Stennet

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