Monday, November 20, 2006


20 November 2006, 8:34 PM
On the eve of the Feast of the Entrance.

I'd had my fill of butterflies-
honestly, I didn't see how they'd fit
another kindred into so small a space-
they were crammed wing to wing already,
beating furiously against my abdomen.

I hadn't realized the power of simple,
unassuming touch to calm the chaos-
she's such a mother, such a gift to me
for my sanity, to know just what I needed,
and just when; how silence coupled
with a ken which entails my world's
complexities could bring the butterflies
to rest for just a moment
in the solace of our Father's house.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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