Crisp sunny winters day.

Run in the sun.

Walk talking to my Maker.

Warming soup.

Afternoon nap.

Another day of life down here.

Yet still my heart cries loud:

Come Lord Jesus Come.

There is too much that is broken. Too many wounds that cannot heal here.

For all those whose hope is a flickering flame tonight:

“And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way
with painful steps and slow,
look now! for glad and golden hours,
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
and hear the angels sing…”

One day the sun will shine out the clearer and we will be home.

One day.