I write this on Holy Island. We have a night here after nearly a fortnight gifted to us by a friend letting us use his lovely cottage in the Lake District for nearly a fortnight to try and get some rest.
Sadly I’m not a lot better. I have needed to find a big God bigger than my pain. I’ve looked out from my friend Rob’s bathroom window on the might of Blencathra. Every day it looked different, in sun and in rain, in clear sky and in mist. A sign like my favourite spot on Holy Island, that there is always something or someone beyond us and our worries are mere trifles.
I lift up my eyes to the hills. I recommend it.
No comments:
Post a Comment