Sunday, 3 November 2013

Into the Known

[caption id="attachment_527" align="aligncenter" width="512"]P1000806 Welcome to our home ...[/caption]

TeaPigs Winter Spiced Red, a blank page, an hour of silence.

Work, routines, people’s needs, and the turn of the year mean it will probably no longer be possible for me to work for extra income for some months, now.

Fear and joy mingle as I face the prospect of once again, simply being the keeper of hearth home and farm. Simply? Heh.

I relish the ancient feel of the role. It envelops me, it is what I was born to do. In rare quiet moments when I really, truly, seek God’s face, it is the commission I hear on the wind, it is the verse which leaps out from the page, it is the voice in the dark. Go ahead. You can do it.

I won’t voice the fears that come along behind. I won’t dignify them with a space in this bold step forward.

The time is now. I have to make this isolated little people-scale farm work, and I will need your prayers, your help and your face set into the same wet, west wind as mine.

[caption id="attachment_564" align="aligncenter" width="483"]527779_3679434741732_1082022101_n Importantly, Linnie is on my side.[/caption]

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