Homecoming

 Home. 

A simple four letter word.

This word can bring a gamut of emotion, a stockpile of baggage, a snapshot in the mind of a place of residence. 

I think that home is the place to which we are always seeking and searching to go. The heart always wants, no, needs, rather, a place to be at rest.  

I have had many “homes.” For me, going home can relate to any number of physical places, actually; and, recently I was thinking of the transition one goes through when relocating. There comes a day when the last place is no longer “immediate home” and the new place has taken that slot in your mind. You don't feel like a temporary or semi permanent visitor in the new house or long as much for the familiar space you left behind; you have bridged to belonging. And it is in belonging that you are most at rest and finally, home. 

I had the pleasure of going to one of my homes last weekend. Driving the familiar roads and seeing so many strange things reminds me that this is no longer my home but just a place I lived once. However, the collection of people I was able to embrace tells a different story. It tells me that my people live around here and that heaven is going to be the sweetest place I will ever be.  

It isn't often that we get to experience a reunion. By definition, a reunion is “a gathering or meeting of people who have been separated or apart for some time, often with emotional significance.” I can't adequately put into words the deep joy that was mine to reunite with dear friends who I spent years with in the trenches of young motherhood and developing faith.  Jesus did such a work in my heart amongst these people, and the trajectory of my life was forever changed. 

As the next generation hugged me and welcomed me into wedding chaos, with these words, “Thanks for coming. I'm really glad you're here, my Mom really needed you,” I felt what many others before me have felt. A full circle of God's timing and plans from start to finish in the breath of a moment. Dear readers, it felt like….the purest and most priceless gift. I considered how if I had gotten my own selfish way, twenty years ago, I might have missed this.  I settled further into the hug and thanked God for His patience and care to give me exactly what I did not want and everything I needed.  This is the deep and beautiful poetry of good books and good songs, the ones that are so poignant, we have to take a moment to ponder if this is truly an exact experience of the author or the summary of an imagination.  I can just hear the musical score set to the lyrics of love shed abroad in our hearts. 

What beauty the Author of my story has penned in my book.  What a true redeemer of the rain.  

We are not always privileged to see some of the tapestry, the great picture and story that all our life events are making.  It can be so hard to trust and lean into the One who knows what it necessary to make us like Him.  All things will be worked for my good, even the tough moments...  All those tears cried in the desert were but a season that brought me to the veil with home on the other side. 

I can't begin to imagine what waits for me in heaven, but I experienced just an inkling....

Its going to be worth it.  It's going to be worth what it will cost you to arrive.  Our Father gives good and perfect gifts, that we can't even see down the road. We just need to trust Him. 

I hope I see you.  I hope I can say, "I'm really glad you're here." 

Home....just beyond the veil..... 

Take Me to the King

Gentle Readers,

We are at the start of a new year, with the passing of every sunrise and sunset we move forward.  As I reflect on the past year, it would be easy to say, "I can't wait for much of this season to fade in memory." It felt like a refining process took place through layer of time; it was painful; many tears were shed; and, yet, I never felt more assured of the cloud of witnesses cheering me on, or felt the close presence of heaven.  Dear friend, if you find yourself in such a season, my heart is for you.  I understand the deep human emotion that tenders and cuts every moment, no matter the source of the pain.  Take a moment here.  Take a moment to breathe.  You don't need to paste a smile on your face.  You can just feel.  God wove emotion into the fabric of your DNA, into your brain chemistry, into your neurons.  It is good and right to experience emotion and there is always a place for that. 

It is in these moments of our lives that we reach for that which is not finite  We want a stable place for our feet and a clear horizon.  We want to know that there is more "out there" or hope that there truly is something that is sustainable that can send aid. It is human nature to reach for help when the light has gone and all the colors turn to grey.  Considering our physical human nature, we have been created to thrive in the light.  If you were to ask anyone who works third shift on steady rotation, they would agree.  Our bodies have to be taught how to survive the hours without the sun. The same is true of our emotional and spiritual nature, we long to be in the light.  We desire harmony and peace.  God also wove this into the fabric of your DNA, into your brain chemistry, into your neurons. God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all; and, He designed us to be in relationship with Him. 

Enter the sinful chaos of our world to disrupt a beautiful picture.  Each of us faces obstacles every day, tasks and encounters that take us farther away from the God who would willingly spend eternity in our presence. I can share that much of my time spent in Texas has been a drawing away from the God who wants to spend eternity with me.  As my spirit animal, Martha, from a village near Jerusalem, I am often worried and busy with many things. Things, dear friends, that will not outlast this life.  Things that if I were not involved would really have no impact.  Dust on my life timeline.  The Lord was gracious in 2024 to bring me, often quite physically, to my knees.  He showed me time and again that the strength I have is not meant to be used in control. The strength that He has given me is to be used in surrender.  (Can I insert a "Selah" here?)  Read that again, Angela.  The strength God gave you is to be used in surrender.  All the things you think you control are not yours to control.  The more I leaned into surrender, the greater the peace that was mine. This world and its priorities will pass away; sooner than we think, dear ones.  Eternity is a breath away....

When I wake in eternity, the first thing I want to say is: "Take me to the One who pursues and draws me.  Take me to the One who wants me at his table forever.  Take me to the King who has all authority in heaven and on earth. Take me to the One who loves me."  And, I am audacious enough to believe that my request will be granted and that He will be happy to see me. (This is the kind of access YOU can have, dear one.)  I can picture the crowd of witnesses parting, and I will be able to see the eternal King.  I will then fully know all His attributes that mostly I can just imagine right now, save one. 

Peace.   

I carry with me, the knowledge of the peace that is possible, when it feels like all of the lights have gone out and all the colors turned to grey.  

I will have it when I surrender my most precious thing - control.  

I will have it when I am near my Savior. 

It is the closest to heaven that I will be here on earth.

I am grateful for the refining process that shapes me to be more like Jesus.  It is difficult, but worth it, always worth it.

Dear one, if you are struggling, there is One who longs to be near.

He is the mighty One who does great things.  And holy is His name.

Endings and Beginnings

Gentle Readers...

All through this long year I wanted to put pen to paper and make it all better. Unfortunately, it just hasn't been possible to sit and write, with abandon and fervor, emptying my heart of its bittersweet aches and pains.  I've clutched all the details, words, angst, and feelings firmly, perhaps afraid, in the end, of what the surrender would cost.  

I want not to pay the toll, but instead, only to feel the relief of an empty soul. Do you ever feel that way? Do you ever just want to be on the other side of something or somewhere and maybe you can't even name what is wearing heavy around your neck? If you find yourself understanding that statement then you will be able to sit next to me and listen. 

I lost my position at work earlier this year. Changes were made and I was removed from my team and placed in an adjacent group. Kept close enough to be used, but removed enough, and in a way that was actually, incredibly painful. It felt like injustice and retaliation after years of struggle to climb up the corporate mountain. Simply put, these situations are never easy, and the big picture doesn't always reflect the reality of how it feels.  It stings the soul.  We worker bees, we have feelings and it's hard even if we understand business is business. For me, to start off with corporate betrayal, it came to home to roost more personally; they gave my department to my husband which is what required my relocation.  These are the casualties when you work at the same company, but it made the grief process and struggle that much more difficult for me. 

A few days later, I taught my last baby son how to drive a car. It was exhausting to hit the required number of parent supervised driving hours. He never  wanted to go at a convenient time, but I tried to be faithful to be in the present, knowing that these, were good days.  I knew that these tiring and precious moments would sneak out the corners of my eyes in years to come; and, if I was not careful, those warm and salty memories would also hold the weight of regret.  It was the longest and shortest six weeks of our last time together as a couple. A mom and her son moving, as though time has slowed, through the last miles that will open the door to a lifetime of tomorrows away.  Readers. He raced through that door and barely waved goodbye.  I see him. Sometimes. His eyes, so like mine, meet my gaze and I count it, joy.

In this same window, I prayed, worried, cajoled, poked, prodded, pushed, then seemingly, by sheer force of will that I didn't possess; and, quite possibly with one foot on a banana peel, I arrived at the high school graduation ceremony of my first baby son. In equal parts I desperately needed this day to happen and ached that it was. Can you ever hear Pomp & Circumstance and not get a little misty? Parents of past seniors, you know exactly what I mean.  I am speaking into the void with full confidence that I am not the only parent that comprehends all the unspoken scenarios within that rather run on description.  For weeks, I was at a dead stop. What is my role here? What happened to my parenting journey? Where is the manual? Did you check the glove box? Is it under the bed? Do we take this one back? Can he stay forever? Can I give him away? Complete and utter loss, yet, an ever constant underlying Mom ache to be at the end. I cannot remember a time I felt more uncertain as a parent. This coupled with the idea that the end was so very unlovely and not within the scope of dreams was more than I could bear. It's not supposed to be like this, its supposed to be something beautiful, poignant, with the appropriate amount of tissues and broad fanfare.  Readers, it does not get more real than this.  This is life. The pictures we paint, the words we compile, the dreams we dream, end differently than expected.  This does not mean the event was not well celebrated, that pride and joy were not in attendance, just that I had always expected this sort of "cutting the ties" to be more of a gentle letting go with soft jazz and longing looks rather than an abrupt, no eye contact, Metallica experience.  That one is on me. This is my first go round.  

As I now fully turn to face  head on what this new season of parenthood means, Ryan and the constant mercy of God are the bedrock of my days. In this season, I learn that my children are complete and separate adults. Their actions and consequences are their own. All of their young life I took their actions to be a reflection of my skill and acceptability as a parent. In this stage, I must learn that their actions are not a reflection of me.  More than at any other time in their life, I must love them as they are and not who I expect or want them to be. Readers. It makes sense and we know it in heads and in our hearts but we still kinda see them as that chunky baby with the million dollar smile and not as the flailing young adult before us.  Here is the truth, almost everyone will scoop up and love on a chunky baby but almost no one will come alongside, reach out a hand, and love on a struggling , questioning, young adult. I think children need their parents in this phase. I think what the actual need is, just isn't clear to any of us or doesn't look like we might expect.  To be honest, I absolutely hated my young adulthood, I think it's the worst time in a person's life so when someone says I wish I was twenty-two again, I say, "Are you nuts?" Then, I look at my beloved son, with grace.  These are not easy days, these are days of difficult, authentic, and necessary, transition; and, my heart knows that one day not too far in the future, the treasures of today will be visible.

I face the Autumn with hope. 

January Begins Us Again

Gentle Readers, or those not so gently reading at this time of the year....

January is a tough, old bird, isn't it? It's cold and dark, even in Texas.  Many of us are trying to get back into the rut of routine that drives our lives forward.  Many of us have decided we want to change one, two or ten things about ourselves and we are slogging full speed into new destiny.  Our mantra, "twenty one straight days is all it takes to form a habit that will finally transform me into something perfect." The stars are still in our eyes, even as the cold and dark bids us to let be.  

I am born in such a month as this.  A tough, old bird welcomed me into a world swathed in white and dirty grey.  At almost forty-four, I wonder, do babies born in January exhibit just a breath more strength than the rest?  We arrive right in the midst of chaos without even the sun to give us a cheer. 

This week, I was thinking to myself that in the three years I've lived in Texas, I haven't driven myself farther than say, 70 miles one way.  Can you imagine that?  I've been driven to some places but I've never had any reason to go myself more than an hour away or so away from home.  My first few weeks in Utah I drove 375 to Boise through unknown territory, with a ten month old in the backseat and no fear in my heart. My first week in New York, I drove 500 miles to Ohio with two young boys in the backseat, excited for my first opportunity to go home by car.  Again, brand new terrain, and anticipation pounding the pavement with every turn of the tire. And, here I am, having never really taken a journey in all this time?  The truth is, my life has become so small in one of the biggest states in the union. I am enslaved to something that keeps my life very full, of nothing that matters.  

I decided, like many others, to make a change, shaking off the mindset that what I live is all there can be, I am charging full speed ahead with stars in my eyes, toward a new destiny.  

Operation: Dinner Out is a go. (IYKYK)

In case you do not know, I will offer some illumination. One of my favorite movies happens to be, Spy Game. (Yes, I cannot fathom how someone well aged can have such allure, but Robert Redford, well, he was blessed to be handsome and full of charisma for the big screen.). In this movie, two unlikely people form a bond and this scenario, an operation, is used twice in the film, both as a gift and as a rescue.   

Dinner Out is an adventure this year of my own making.  I am facing the start of new chapters in my parenting journey.  I am going through the trials of aging as a female that takes a long and doubtful time.  I am considering if I am worthy to be one of God's own, consistently struggling to find His family amidst the exhaustion of life. I am entering my 20th year of marriage to a man who I wed as a different version of myself.  It is time to sign the contract of tomorrow and rip apart the contract of yesteryear. 

Operation Dinner Out began this weekend, of all weekends, the closest we might get to experiencing winter in Texas during this season.  Dinner Out will consist of at least one night of camping per month at a new State Park during this calendar year. Our boys are welcome to join anytime, but it will likely be mainly just Ryan and myself as our they work weekends.  After our family camping trip over Thanksgiving which felt like the close of a chapter, so beautiful and bittersweet, we had to discard our family tent that we had during all of our married life. For this journey ahead, we bought a new, not too expensive tent that will fit in the bed of a pickup truck. Quite easy for setup/take down, which is exactly what you want if you are camping one night a month.  It needs to be easy to be sustainable. We have one air mattress that will fit in the bed around the wheel wells, and it is close quarters and fairly comfy.  (Don't worry, should the boys join, we have other options available.) Every park should have hiking and probably kayaking, to free the mind of the day-to-day and learn to be still. 

I booked Meridian State Park two weeks ago in preparation. It was not easy to find a reservation despite that there are 88 parks in Texas.  January is the month to go, eh, when it's less than 115* in the shade. Ryan and I had to drive two hours northwest but it was doable on a long holiday weekend. The park is small but lovely with a lake that had quite a few fishermen despite the chilly temperatures.  Several were in waders out in the water and I personally would have put my foot down on the one, while it was around 60* with the sun out, the wind was already blowing bitter.  We hiked a few miles, found two geocaches (I got to clock my first ever find....I'm not too good at buried treasure but the rest of the pirates in my house are sound.) and my favorite part was sitting on a bench, surrounded by a forest of dense cedar and listening to the wind.  The trees still bear green leaves or bristles, I can't quite be sure what it would be called, and the branches cracked and ached with the wind. With every swoosh and crack I heard over and over, "I lead you and restore your soul. I am with you.  You will dwell in God's house forever."  What restoration! 

We spent a lovely evening putting up the tent and making the best campfire dogs we ever tasted, but we knew early on, it was time to bed down.  The winds were atrocious and the temperature was dropping by the minute.  We walked to the bathroom, prayed it would be enough to last the night; we climbed into our tent, shut up the flap, and watched a movie together, refusing to take any liquid refreshment.  The wind tore at the tent and the temperature continued to plummet, reaching mid teens in the early hours. As you might expect, because your body simply lends toward betrayal, we awakened in the darkness needing to relieve ourselves.  I did not want to go out of the cocoon, even though I was already chilly, I knew it was worse out there.  My brain propelled my body from the tent but my emotion kept me from walking too far.  It's 15*, I have one shirt, one sweatshirt, two hats, gloves, sweatpants, socks and shoes and it might as well have been nothing.  With zero percent shame, I relieved myself there, in the woods, with the truck in sight. It took so long to get back to sleep, I tossed and turned, listened to the wind, felt the wetness of the blankets with the building condensation, and said: brilliant idea, Ang, brilliant idea. 

We packed it in around 0830, lasting longer than many of our neighbors, but without our campfire coffee and breakfast.  Sometimes you just have to call it.  I've spent the remainder of the day trying to recover; it's cold even at our home, because Texas houses aren't built for cold temperatures.  I've a work trip this week which requires I drive to Dallas which is about three hours away.  I don't want to go, for more reasons than one, but one reason is the drive.  I used to be braver than this. I used to take life by much more storm, but my soul has mellowed.  

I think Dinner Out is going to be a beautiful thing. 

I think it will be both a gift and a rescue for this heart. 

May it bring peace to the mind, the beauty from nature, healing to the soul, and deepen the bonds of relationship. 

Cherished

Gentle readers....

Most writers are not short winded and I am not an exception to that rule.  I am coaching myself on trying to quell the tidal wave of words that pour out, but meeting with limited success at this time. When I am able to rein it in, I allow myself a Reese cup. Although I would really like a sweet snack, today is not that day.

I have ever so many thoughts rolling around and I have to be honest, I have had very little rest the last few weeks. My family dynamic is significantly and rapidly changing in these recent weeks; one can imagine their whole parenting journey what it will be like when the end comes, but, it is simply not possible to understand in advance the complexity of emotion that lies within a mother's scope.  

Once upon a time, when my blue eyes had seen much less of the world and I lived in a place far away from where I'm sitting, I birthed a heavy baby son.  In fact, those words were the first I spoke when he was placed in my arms.  It was possibly due to the fact I had to wrestle my legs to my neck for two hours to facilitate his arrival; nonetheless, he was over eight pounds of heavy softness in my aching arms and all the mothering days I have spent with him and his little brother have been my dearest joy. 

Both of my sons are working and taking on other responsibilities now; often, it might be a day or two between physical sightings despite that they still rest their heads at night just down the hall from me.   Still on the first day of the 10th and 12th grades, they each came to see their mama, separately, to talk about their day. It is so near to the end, yet for just a few more minute of this life, their heart looks for rest with me. It is almost too holy and fleeting and beautiful to desecrate with words.   

So much of the next years are the letting go of a wonderful life. Simply put, it is painful. It is a very painful transition in the life of most mothers, but it is perhaps a little harder with sons because you really do lose them for good.  They will go off with their friends, and then their wives, and that will be that. (Daughters tend to stick close to their own families)  In my case, even more worrisome is the fact that I took them all over this great country so who knows where they will settle. It likely will not be near to me, dear ones, and I am preparing for that reality. 

My sons are tall (They've sprouted up some more so they aren't as irritated with me; it's tough to have a dad that's 6 1/2 ft tall and a mom who is only 5 ft.) with wavy, lived-in blonde hair, and blue eyes.  They are both tender hearted and have a good humor. Given the chance one might retreat to privacy and the other would go with the crowd, but both can handle themselves in a tight spot.  I have such pride and joy in who they are, but understand that life will continue to change them. I pray daily they will invite One along for the journey ahead. 

It's been a long and quick blip in time; a deeply, deeply cherished life.   

Rest your head close to my heart...very, very soon to part.....sweet baby of mine.... 

Thank you, Jesus, for loaning these two sweet souls to me.  Give me strength to see the journey through, tissues to ease the transition, and establish a place I can invest my heart for the next phase. 

Staying the Course

 Gentle readers...

I have been reflecting on this title for several days. It is the summarized platitude of perseverance, and when we hear it, we feel inclined to continue with a spirit of forbearance.

Sometimes, though, it doesn't feel like we can continue.  Sometimes we are at the end of our strength.  

I have been here for weeks. Camped out at the end of my capability.  I am fully in all my human emotions and reaching out for the strength that only God gives. The strength it requires to love our enemies.  Is there anything more ludicrous to the human heart than the call to love our enemies? It's not feasible, certainly not desirable, and yet, it is the single thing that sets those whom God calls His own apart from the others.  No one else but God would demand we love and forgive, continuously, as He does.  Oh, dear readers, I long to be like Jesus, I long to be welcomed home by Him one day, but it is on this matter that I'm certain I am incredibly lacking.  

How does one love someone who spreads words that are not true, someone whose sole desire is to build themselves up at the cost of others? 

I want nothing more than vindication. I want to prove who this person truly is and what this person is doing to myself and others. 

I don't get to call the shots on that one though.  Scripture is clear that anyone can love the lovable and there is little reward there.  It is the unlovable we are called to pray for and for those hands we must reach. 

I can't tell you how that is done, honestly, because it is not in my own strength. I do not know how to stay the course and love in this situation.  I would very much like to throw in the towel and retire to Tennessee immediately.  But what I do know - God hears the prayers of this worn out child.  The best course of action is prayer. I can't humanly love that person, nor can I change the situation; however, God's power can change me and my heart. 

For weeks this has been a daily plea, "Please, God, help me do this. Help me do what is right. Help me see this person and my surroundings through Your eyes. Help me." Ten minutes later, the blood is raging in my veins and deep anger and resentment seeps out to cloak the Texas midday sun.   You know why? It feels good. It feels good to know that I am owed something.  I have been wronged and I have a right to any and all feelings associated with retribution and disdain. Have you ever been there, dear reader? Have you ever held onto something so tightly because you deserve it? I'm sure you have. It's so easy and it's so human.

In reflection I see that this path started with an "I can't" love this person or deal with this situation....and it is now..."I don't want" which signifies a problem with my heart.  The good news here....I know the Mender of broken and bitter pieces and so together we are going about the business of resolution. The battle for submission has been fierce and I won't say it is entirely over, but I had a moment today, a moment that took me back to 1997, Mr. Ken Chapman, and these verses.

"But I trust in the Lord Jesus to send Timotheus shortly unto you, that I also may be of good comfort, when I know your state. For I have no man like-minded, who will naturally care for your state. For all seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's. But ye know the proof of him, that, as a son with the father, he hath served with me in the gospel. Him therefore I hope to send presently..."

It felt like a quick, physical blow, tears came to my eyes, and for a moment I had the eyes of the Father.  I could see this one troublesome person, and these surroundings that bind me so tightly, and hear these words..."In a sea of people, I have no one like-minded that is going to care. I love this person and the others around him and around you. This isn't about what is happening to you, this is about them. You are strategically called and placed...to care and shine. (and you're killing me Smalls..or something like that.)"

One thing that I can attest to over and over in my life is this: God changes hearts, mine in specific. I can't do the hard things like love and forgive in my own strength but He gives me His. He lends me the privilege of His worldview from time to time.

May His kingdom be what wakes me up and lays me down for the time I am here.  

Lovingly Wrapped

Gentle Readers...

I ache for a simple life. I ache for my grandparents; I ache to sit on the front porch snapping green beans; I ache for wisdom freely dispensed; I ache to be wrapped in love.

So often these days I'm thinking about my parents and grandparents and realizing they were about my age when "x" happened. It feels so strange because I don't feel that it is time to be that related to the generations ahead of me, and yet, here we are. 

If I close my eyes, though, this is what I see.

It's a warm, late spring evening.  It is time to visit the nursery in Clinton which was always one of my favorite things to do.  I loved browsing through the beautiful flowers and feeling/seeing all the bulk seeds.  We would pick out what we wanted and the shopkeeper would put the seeds into brown bags, weigh them, and we would take them to Grandma's for planting. Planting the annual garden was a family affair and no child was left to their devices, each had a task to complete.  The soil would have been tilled earlier in the day so soft, cool earth bid me take off my socks and shoes and dig in my toes. Promptly I would have done so, at one end of the garden, and then later in the dark, would have had to return to try to find what I had so quickly discarded.  

In the same way that I cannot throw a ball, I cannot make a straight line, so marking the hallowed rows with the stick and string was a task that would not be delegated to me. I might be required to hoe; but, often, I got to drop the seeds into the ground, up and down the rows.  I can almost feel those big white lima bean seeds and smell the paper brown bag.  What a joy to be a planter; to know that what you are putting into the ground is going to yield a living thing! Mosquitoes and fireflies would be close companions as the moon began to smile on the family project. A young child cannot resist the draw of cupping a firefly in small hands and it could be easy to be distracted, but Grandma is near and helps  encourage me to stay on task.  If we kids were lucky, we were allowed to have a snack from the sacred drawer before heading home, but it's just as likely that we had to find our socks and shoes and get on home.  

It feels like a simple life, wrapped in security, dirt, and a field of fireflies.

Just yesterday, but a lifetime ago.

I ache for that simple life, but on a deeper level, I am aching for security. The older one gets, the less security is offered and the more it is required to be given.  I am someone else's security.  Someone else will look back in their mind's eye one day and tell a story of the simplicity of childhood and the comfort of love.  I could daydream about what moments would be chosen, but it likely will not be the grand events that would stick out to me.  Our lives are made up of subtle moments that etch, unbeknownst to us, into precious memories. What a treasure!

I think while I was soaking up the comfort of my parents and grandparents during childhood, they were leaning into Jesus for security.  With their parents aging and passing they were left to stand in the gap, but not alone, for the One who keeps the stars, also bows low to the earth and enters our space.  He's in the everyday if we look. I saw Him just the other day in a canceled meeting that I really didn't have the heart to join. I hear Him in the song of the birds that put me down and wake me up each day. (so many birds at our house!)  I see Him in others and I hope that you can see Him in me.  There are many ways our senses can be assaulted with the idea that we should not feel secure.  Our work places, media, schools, sometimes our family, colleagues and even "friends," may promote these feelings.  It crowds the still, small voice and we have to be mindful to look.  

Our God is with us. And those loved ones that left us to stand in the gap..... joined in the cloud of witnesses to cheer us on to the finish line.

I close my eyes and I am lovingly wrapped....in security.