Driving home from a 3-day getaway weekend, we saw the sign for St. Anthony’s, labeled as the ‘smallest church’. Stop the car. Back up….
After a five mile drive along mostly twisting, turning gravel roads, we arrived at our destination. The church holds just two rows of pews, tiny benches, really and there is an old cemetery – just a smattering of gravestones here and there. Quite the place and I’m glad we took the time to check it out. Gravel travel and backroad adventures are like that sometimes!
Here’s a link with more information ~
So, what’s this now? This anxiety about tasks not yet completed, about the day getting away from me. With all my talk of time seen now from an entirely new – and foreign – perspective, how is it that my heart is quickening when I consider what needs to be done, should be, ought to be done? Oceans of time, remember?
I tell myself it’s because I’m not feeling at the top of my game right now. My hands and wrists, sometimes even my feet, thrum with a constant, dull, relentless ache. Pain. And so little energy. I hope it’s nothing more than that. Just a spike in how my body behaves itself, treats itself, in spite of itself.
To cut off one’s nose to spite one’s face.
Sunshine, flowers, warm breezes. Curiosity and eagerness – anticipation! – returned. I have to believe it to be so. That it will be, again.
Daily Prompt: Spike