The four bedroom doors are mostly closed these days, as if that will shut up the memories that linger there. The hallway that once, in vain, tried to contain the laughter and tears, the tantrums and playful squeals of four rambunctious, lively children now holds only distant echoes. Except when the grandchildren come to make their own way where once their mama dreamily envisaged babies of her own. Then never imagining the depth of the love that now fills her.
And so the heart likes to dally there, but knows still that life forges on thus it cannot remain. There are too many blessings in the moment. And a future to contemplate.
And a husband to love here and now and forever.
We, he and I, find it necessary to reconnect. To simply be. To be in one another's presence and in the presence of our God. And in it we find a silver lining to children growing up and leaving our home to make their own. And we come to appreciate that this is how it is meant to be.
We headed out in my little, blue Honda at about 1:00, traveling under a mostly cloud-covered sky. Arriving at Lake Anna State Park a little beyond 3:00 p.m., our weekend far from television, traffic, and the clutter of our lives had begun.
After unpacking and setting up house-keeping in our small yet sufficient cabin, we ventured out to explore the surroundings. The wooded area in front of the cabin had been cleared a bit allowing easy access to the lake via a gently sloped yard. Holly explored this area to her doxie heart's content. We strolled around the loop of cabins before settling down to pray Evening Prayer and to sip wine as we gazed out over the lake. That evening Jim grilled salmon for dinner and we spent some time reading and chatting before retiring to bed as a heavy rain began to fall. My only disappointment thus far had been that I had forgotten to bring my pillow from home!
Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. After breakfast we struck out on a four mile hike along a few of the many trails meandering through the park. It is here where I found joy in the silent moments and in listening to leaves crunch beneath our feet, to acorns and walnuts dropping from the sky. In reconnecting with God's creation, the sheer awe of it all. In watching a butterfly tease Holly as she pounced and bounded after it, all to no avail. Joy, too, in the conversation along the way and in the rosary praying and in the playful silliness. And in discovering one another anew, away from the distractions, the noise that so often gets in the way of simply being together. Of simply loving, of being one.
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A smokehouse along one of the trails.
It is what remains of an old plantation that once overlooked the North Anna River. |
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Fall just beginning to show off her glory.
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Temperatures dipped low on Saturday night, but we remained toasty warm before a roaring fire. We sipped tea and chatted long, about nothing really. And the nothing was just fine.
In fact, it was even better than just fine. It was perfect.
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Sunday morning mist beginning to lift.
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I belong to my lover, and my lover belongs to me; he feeds among the lilies.
- Song of Songs 6:3
P.S. Some added charm on our way home:
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This beautiful, quaint, old church is The Winston Family Chapel in Culpeper County, Virginia.
As one might expect, there is a story hidden there beneath all it's charm.
A story of family feuds and forbidden love.
The chapel called out to me as we drove past and I just had to stop to snap some photos. |
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| The windows are lovely. |
