The walk was treacherous. More than once I wished I'd owned a pair of crampons (silly name, handy tool). I also wished I'd brought my gloves; the temperature in the flats was much lower than I'd expected, and lack of crampons (teehee) meant I had to walk through briar patches to reach my destination. My hands are still swollen, dry and scratched-up.
This is my church, the place I feel closest to God.
Every single thing I saw was a miracle.
Amazing. Humbling. Enriching. Inspiring. Impossible.
Thanks to everyone who responded to my last post. It helped me to realize how blessed I truly am, and inspired me to go to those places where my heart is happiest.
There are prettier places, and more expansive places, to go than the flats. But I like it there. The walk took me twice as long as usual, and left me there just past sunset, but this didn't bother me at all.
Eventually, though, I did reach my destination... back from whence I'd come. The only impression I'd made on the flats was in the form of footprints (and, perhaps, in the form of a little less litter than it'd had before). The impression it made on me was more profound.
...Come walk with me again sometime?