Quiet

Still paused, despite a battle with high winds and lashing rain, still awaiting, dominion of sorts  - driven into a corner. Tired.
I was upa half the night ill, so Neil was forced to be at home, run children to school, do stuff around here - it was like glimpsing into the life we dreamt of.
It made us think - somehow we have to go on. It's going to involve some tough decisions for everyone. Somehow we have to take a step or many steps back, and move forward down a different path. I wonder how far from the true path we have strayed?

there's a dent in the soft bean bag, by the woodburner, where Boo sat this evening. We were catching up with many unwatched video diaries from Lammas and she was sewing.
Then Neil went off to bed (2am drive sadly) and now she's pottered off, H is upstairs working, and I'm sipping tea, still feeling rubbish and thinking about crawling off to bed myself.
And sitting here, I'm thinking - I want my dent to be a good dent, you know?  I want to have acted justly, loved mercy, and walked humbly with God. I want to have been a follower of Christ, a faithful steward, and to have followed the road less travelled.
It's getting late in life to turn off the track. Not quite sure how we ever shambled back onto it. But it's time for a detour.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

Robert Frost



Nothing to Report ...

we still don't know what happens next. A lot of things are going on behind scenes, but I can't talk about them.
Ground is tilled, and seedlings are growing, and the days are longer and bluer.
Children work hard and play hard, and grow.
I miss being able to update with regular stories and general nonsense, but fear I will say something that will cause us pain, again.
Bear with me. When we know, I will be back, in full babble.