Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Empty plots of land.
Empty homes and aching hearts.
It’s the way it’s supposed to be. Our ultimate act of faith to go and spend eternity with our maker. That doesn’t make the empty chairs any less empty. Their emptiness as present and pressing as the full stomach of a large meal.
We’re in a beautiful place. A slice of wilderness cut back and tamed. Built into a family retreat for four generations now. Built by hands that are no longer here to enjoy and tend to. Enjoyed by little hands and feet that will never know of the ones that built it anything other than a picture and a tale.
There are so many stories in this place.
Made by generations of people who no longer join us at the table to share them. Their seats kept warm by the pictures, the stories and the living of life that continues on in this beautiful place.