Sunday.

We woke up yesterday morning very thankful to have made it through the night safely. As most of you probably heard, North Carolina experienced two dozen deaths and heavy damage from multiple tornadoes that came through the state on Saturday. A tornado did touch down further up the beach from us but all we got here in Manteo were a couple hours of heavy rain and high winds—which caused our Saturday night sleep to be a bit restless, I might add.

We did find out that a tornado touched down in our old neighborhood in Smithfield; here are a few pictures taken by some friends who have a home there.

As much as I hate scary storms, one thing I do love about them is that when they are over, they leave behind such amazingly fresh and newly cleansed air.

As Sarah and I were leaving for church about 8 am yesterday morning, I paused for a moment on the porch, took in the deepest breath that these COPD-afflicted lungs would allow and then just sighed for the pure joy of it. I mean, it was one of those mornings when you just want to drink the air, it was that crisp and that sweet.

I said to Sarah, “Do you think your dad would notice if I didn’t show up at worship band rehearsal or at church this morning?”

Alas, Sarah responded that I would probably would be missed just a tad and that we really should be going.

And so we went--accompanied by lovely spring air the whole way.

After having guests to our house for lunch, taking our sacrosanct Sunday afternoon nap (we were especially wiped out after a ten-hour work day on Saturday), it was finally time for Steve’s and my late afternoon-ish, quasi-early evening-ish bike ride.

We got our (on sale from Walmart) bikes out of the garage and started getting ourselves helmeted and otherwise prepared for our imminent take off.

However, our plans were delayed just slightly when my be-helmeted hubby got a phone call.

So while he talked, I entertained myself by wandering around the yard with my camera and taking pictures of beautiful, spring time (allergy-causing) flowers.

I also took a picture of a bumble bee. How exciting is that?

At long last we were on the bike trail which (happily) passes just a block from our house. The air was still cool and still fresh and I was one happy woman to be pedaling along in it.

We rode down to the north end of the island and paused for a moment by this, um, body of water. (I can never remember what it’s called. A bay? A sound? An inlet? My Body of Water Knowledge Bank is rather limited.)

Then on the way back to the house, we stopped by Manteo’s newest attraction—a historic windmill that has just been relocated to a piece of land right on the bike trail.

Across the road from the windmill, is The Island Farm which provided plenty of opportunities for me to take pictures of loveliness. (While Steve waited patiently.)

But with all the lovely things we saw on our bicycle-eaque meanderings, the most beautiful sight of all was this one at the end of the journey. Home sweet home.

COMMENTS

Anonymous said, “Becky, Do you know anything about Martinsville NC? Do you live nearby? My husband is waiting on a phone interview with a local hospital there. Guess what area? Sleep Disorders. Anyway, if you know anything about the town, can you let me know please? Thanks.”

Well, I’m afraid that I can’t be of much help on this topic because I didn’t even know there was a town in NC called Martinsville until you asked about it. So I learned something new today!

Although I can’t tell you much about that town in particular, I will tell you that the state of North Carolina is such a great place to live with mountains and the ocean both within driving distance, as well as four distinct seasons. You’d love it.

Good luck to your husband on his interview!

Lisa said, “You have made the Outer Banks look so appealing that I am considering a trip there this summer for my husbands and my 20th Anniversary. Would you be kind enough to do a post of "must see", "must eat" and "must stay" for us?? You have talked about several places since you have been there and I don't know if I have found all of them in the archives. So maybe a Travel Brochure post as such...who knows you may be on to something with that.”

Lisa, I’m happy to hear that my Outer Bank writings have made you want to come for a visit; it really is a great place and quite unlike any other area of the country.

And although I’m honored that you would think I’m knowledgeable enough to writer a Travel Brochure type of post, I’m still such a newbie around here that I don’t know about even half of the things that are available here. Maybe in ten years or so, I might consider myself a bit more qualified for that job!

However, a good place for you to start is at OBX.com; you can also Google the Outer Banks and find out all sorts of helpful information.

As for the stuff I’ve written about it in the past, I’ve tried to put a Manteo label each of those posts; if you scroll down the right column of the blog you’ll see a heading that says, “Subjects I’ve Covered.” You can click on the Manteo label and pull up all 27 (or so) of my past posts about our town and the Outer Banks in general.

I hope that’s helpful and happy twentieth anniversary!

EDITED TO ADD:

After reading the post above, some other Outer Banks suggestions have come in which I'll post below.

From Buff:

One place you must eat for yummy local seafood is Lone Cedar Cafe, owned by NC's Senator Basnight! Best food around...I think you said another time that you have eaten there.

Also, Sam & Omies..

They should check out Jockey's Ridge and Wright Brothers Memorial...And they must visit Hatteras...cross the big scary bridge, check out the Serendipity house which was the Inn in Nights in Rodanthe and climb the Hatteras Lighthouse! (Just a couple things to do when visiting...)

Anonymous said, One of my favorite Outer Banks destinations is Ortegaz, right there in Manteo. Fantastic food, wonderful service, and fair prices!

Rachel said,

Favorite eateries -- Tortugas Lie, The Nags Head Pier House Restaurant and Barefoot Bernies

Favorite Thing to Do -- Lay on the beach, walk on the beack, BE ON THE BEACH... for real though, it's vacation ;)

Favorite OTHER things to do -- Horseback riding on the beach in Hatteras was expensive ($100 per person) but AMAZING. Visiting the lighthouses. Jockey's Ridge, Nags Head Woods, Wild horse tours in Corolla.

Favorite shopping spots -- The Duck Waterfront Shops, Manteo (the Christmas shop and the Manteo Bookstores are the BEST!), Kitty Hawk Kites

Other than that, I know we really love it because we go every year at the same time and we see a lot of the same faces. OBX is a community not only of the people who live there, but of the vacationers who go year after year as well. Many of the people who work there remember us from years before and I just love that!

Brooke said,

When I was a kid we'd rent a big house with one of my stepmother's brothers in Frisco (just south of the Hatteras Lighthouse). Those weeks were some of the best of my summer. Along with all the swimming and playing in the ocean, there's a great little bookstore in Buxton that I just loved (thats still there!http://www.buxtonvillagebooks.com/ ).

In November of 2009 my father rented a house at Buxton for a few days, right on the beach. My father, stepmother, brother + family, and I gathered there to spend time together. It was LOVELY. It was the last vacation I took with Dad, he died April 24, 2010. I think that was also the last time Dad saw the ocean too. That is the most treasured trip I've taken to the OBX so far. It will have to be something HUGE for a trip to the OBX to be more treasured.

So, yeah, the OBX, I love them. I love them in November better than August, but I love to swim in the ocean, and November isn't a good time to swim in the ocean. It's a horrible crux.

A Big(ish) Outing

Last October for Pastor’s Appreciation Day, our church gave Steve and me a gift certificate to Owens, a local restaurant. Sadly though, just when we got ready to put the certificate to use, the restaurant closed for the winter and so we had to cool our heels (along with our taste buds) for five months--all the while continuing to hear rave reviews about the place from various local folks.

Well last Friday night, our Big Moment finally arrived and Steve and I were more than ready to go out and do it up big; in fact, we were ready to par-TAY! (Or at least go forth to eat a fine meal in a generally enthusiastic and energetic fashion.)

And oh, what a meal!

May I just say that if you ever come to the Outer Banks on vacation, you must stop by Owens Restaurant for a meal; it is a drop dead gorgeous restaurant (owned by the same family for 65 years) and the food is amazing. I will warn you, though, that it’s a bit spendy; we probably won’t be going there a whole lot unless we’re accompanied by a gift certificate or unless it’s for a special occasion--like possibly our 85th wedding anniversary.

(Or actually, come to think of it, the portions are plenty big enough to split if you and your Officially Accompanying Person are not big eaters.)

But anyway, here we are, getting ready to delightedly delve (not to mention dive) into our delectable desserts. Steve had coconut pie on a chocolate base and I had pecan pie, warmed, with a scoop of ice cream. (And please do your best to not be jealous of our Unique Hand Holding Technique. When you've been married 29 years, you find out there is more than one correct way to hold a hand!)

May I just say that we were not, repeat not, counting calories on this particular evening. Life is too short to count calories all the time, and one of those decidedly non-counting times is most definitely when one is dining at Owens.

And even though the meal was expensive, my thrift-lovin’ soul was happy that the leftover filet mignon we took home with us was more than enough to feed all three of us for dinner the following night. I added baked potatoes, a veggie, and some rolls and we got to eat expensive food two nights in a row. How fun is that?

A Few Comments

Kim said, “What beautiful pictures. I'm sure you've told us...but can you tell me again..what kind of camera you have?”

Thanks for the compliment, Kim! I do love taking pictures!

I have two cameras:

• A “purse camera” which goes with me everywhere. It’s a Canon Power Shot A620 that I’ve had about three or four years; I feel like it’s my best friend. (Well, apart from Steve that is, who is my absolute, very best friend.)
  
• I also have a Nikon D5000 which is my “it makes me feel like I’m a real photographer even though I’m not” camera. I’ve only had it a couple months so I’m still finding my way around it but I absolutely love it and am being constantly inspired by all the potential it offers.

My H said, “Is Sarah feeling better now? She was under the weather a few days ago.”

Mary, thanks for your concern about Sarah. Obviously whenever Sarah gets a fever of any variety, we tend to worry a tad because unexplained fevers were one of her original cancer systems. So whenever she does run a temp I say, “Do you have a cough? Runny nose? Sore throat? You do? Oh good!”

I realize it’s a bit odd to do happy dances when one’s daughter has a sore throat but we cancer moms are funny like that.

Anyway, this last fever was (thankfully) accompanied by all the “regular symptoms” so she just stayed home a couple days from school, bounced right back and is currently feeling great!

Anonymous said, “What you had was EXACTLY like the sleep study I just had and waiting for results. What were the results of yours?”

It’s been so long since I had that study that I really don’t remember exactly what the final report was; obviously it wasn’t anything too alarming because no one told me to change anything or do anything different. Good luck on getting your results! There’s nothing quite like going through a sleep study, is there?

Debbie asked, “Beautiful pictures Becky. Out of curiosity, did you find anything at the consignment shop?”

Debbie, actually I did find a treasure. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve been on the lookout for summer shoes with toes in them (due to my recent traumatic toenail removal) and I snagged a pair of gold/tannish, leather casual shoes that had some hoity-toity designer’s name in them. (Although hoity toity-ness doesn’t matter in the least to me.)

I looked them up online when I got home and found that they sell new for about $60-80. I got them for $20, which is still a little expensive to me, but hey, I’m a desperate woman! And sometimes a desperate woman just has to shell out $20 for shoes!

But any rate, I just love the whole treasure-hunting vibe of thrift stores and consignment stores because you honestly never know what will be around each corner. The shopping is so much more interesting than at a mall.

And all the thrift store lovers said? Amen!

From A Slightly Frazzled Woman . . .

Have you ever worried about hurting the feelings of the place you live?

Naw, me neither.

However, just to make absolutely sure that my Outer Banks home knows how much I appreciate its beauty and just to reassure it that I‘m not comparing it unfavorably to the rolling hills I saw on my recent road trip, here are a few shots I took as I was leaving town last week.

I think the Outer Banks would hold its own pretty well in any Scenery Beauty Contest, don’t you?

My trip on Monday to my oncologist and plastic surgeon went fine; I don’t have to return to either doctor for about six months so that made me quite happy.

What didn’t make me quite as happy was being told by my oncologist that I’m still supposed to do a breast exam every month, paying careful attention to the skin near the scars. He said that there is fatty tissue under those scars and fatty tissue is what grew the cancer in the first place. It’s not a real common occurrence, but he said there have been some women who were diagnosed with cancer again—after a double mastectomy!

I will do what he said as far as the exams go, but I refuse to let my brain think too much about the reason behind what I’m doing. The last thing I need in my life is to be thinking about getting breast cancer again!

I was gone about nine hours on Monday and on Tuesday I spent most of the day in bed with an awful, horrible, painful, dreadful sore throat that started on Sunday morning and just kept getting worse and worse. I couldn’t talk and had no energy to even sneeze. (Which of course, since it's allergy season, I was wont to do on a fairly frequent basis.)

Today I dragged my little ol’ self out of bed and hit the day running since I’d already lost one day to doctors and another day to overall throat-based malaise. I am feeling a bit better today which is a good thing because in the next four hours I have to make dinner (leftover pasta salad with some meat thrown in), attend a staff meeting, attend our Wednesday night service and then sit in on a script re-write for our upcoming Easter drama.

I’m squeezing in the writing of this post in the midst of dinner prep, so if you see any glaring mistakes (or worse yet, you see a smear of butter on the edge of your screen) you’ll know why.

There are a few questions to answer that have come in; I’ll have to get to those in the next post.

Happy Spring! (cough, cough, sniffle, sniffle)

Country Church. Consignment Store. Bliss.

A big part of the joy of last week’s road trip was getting to make the drive home at a leisurely pace, enjoying rain-freshened breezes, sapphire skies and spring festooned hills all along the way.

As much as I love living in our beautiful coastal region, I was raised in a hilly area of Wisconsin and sometimes I really miss meandering through a rolling landscape. (Which is a little hard to come by living five minutes from the ocean.)

And so when I checked out of my hotel room late Tuesday morning, I had just two objectives:

1. To drive down any ol’ side road that looked interesting, especially if it was sporting this wonderful sign:

2. To find a country church/cemetery to take pictures of. (I just have a thing for quaint country churches.)

And so off I went, happy as could be, inhaling contentment and sunshine and fresh air in equal measure. I puttered along my way, constantly on the lookout for loveliness around each corner. And thankfully, there were plenty of lovely (and interesting) sights to see.

And then—oh, happy day!—I found my country church! The instant I drove by I squealed, “There it is! There it is! I found it!” (Thankfully, no one was lurking around the corner watching me as I talked so animatedly with myself.)

I hopped out of the car and was immediately immersed in quaint, country beauty and a clean country breeze. It was beyond blissful.

And then as I was driving through Carthage, NC, I saw this house and immediately made the decision that our family needed to sell everything we own so that we can move to Carthage and buy this house. (I eventually reconsidered the wisdom of sharing that plan with my family. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t request this house when I get to heaven.)

And finally I came across the most beautiful sight of all—a consignment store! Hurray and hallelujah!

A country drive, sunny skies, lovely sights, bargain shopping, quiet time alone, a family (and doggie) waiting to welcome me home—it was truly a trip that renewed my soul.

(Today’s road trip to Greenville, on the other hand, will involve one plastic surgeon and one oncologist. I keep saying that I think each appointment will be my last and yet it seems like another trip always has to be made. At least I have the memories of last week’s lovely trip to sustain me on today’s not-quite-as-lovely journey.)

A Harvest.

Over thirty years ago, my dad was the pastor this church in Albemarle, NC.

It wasn’t big and it wasn’t fancy and there weren’t many people when he first arrived. In fact, one of the visitors who eventually became a part of the church recounted, “When I first walked through the front door of that church, I saw just six people--and four of them were on the platform!”

The four people on the platform would have been my two younger sisters and me (playing drums, bass and piano, respectively) and my dad, who led the singing and did the preaching. The two people in the pews would have been my mom and one other intrepid church attender. And at the very beginning that was it—the entire congregation.

It was most definitely not a day of big beginnings.

I was in my late teens when dad pastored there, and let me just say that when I was a teen and my view of the world was still shiny and unsullied, I didn’t tend to think about certain things.

I didn’t tend to think about the fact that it must have been discouraging sometimes to be in my dad’s shoes back then, to be in the prime of his life while pastoring just a handful of people.

I didn’t tend to think about how much fortitude and dedication it must have taken for my dad to go to that dreary, dilapidated church office day after day and labor diligently over sermons that only a couple of people would ever hear.

I didn’t tend to think about the fact that finances must have been very tight back in those days when Dad had a family to support that was—at the beginning, at least—bigger than the whole congregation.

There were a whole lot of things I didn’t think about back then.

Four days ago, when unexpected circumstances caused me to make a trip back to Albemarle to sing at a funeral, I made it a point to stop by the old church first. And when I pulled into the parking lot, I started to think about a whole lot of things because I suddenly saw that old church through different eyes.

I saw it through the eyes of a 49-year old woman whose dreams were no longer new and no longer shiny and I saw it through eyes that have seen disappointment and grief. I understood, in a fresh way, just what sort of gritty determination it must have taken my parents to stay in that place and faithfully pastor those few people.

And as I sat out in the parking lot and gazed at those long ago memories through older eyes, I wept.

I wept over old memories and new understanding and I wept because that building had encompassed the ministry of a father who is no longer on this earth. And for a few brief moments, I felt close to him, and I felt like I understood him better. I felt like a part of him was right there with me on that warm spring day—a day that was filled with the solemn quietude of long gone years.

I realized that even though my dad never pastored a large church, never lived in a nice house, and never had much money, he was still a success. My dad was faithful to what he was called to do and he did it with joy and with excellence.

My dad was also blessed to have a wife at his side who didn’t whine about not having extra money to go out clothes shopping. Instead, she cheerfully scrubbed church toilets with him, dusted pews while he vacuumed, typed his letters, and sat on the front pew and amened his sermons. And all along the way, she quietly invested her love and her life into her husband, into her children, and into those few parishioners who came through the doors of that humble building.

My dad was a flawed man in many ways. There is no doubt about that. But I sat in that parking lot and looked beyond his faults and I cried because he was no longer around to unlock that little white door and step inside the church to do the ministry he loved so much.

And throughout his long ministry, my dad always did so much more than just pastor a church. While we lived in Albemarle, my dad also opened a youth center and spent hundreds of hours reaching out to both troubled teens and “good kids” alike. He played pool with them, counseled them, listened to them and loved them unconditionally. My dad’s ministry has never been confined to a church’s four walls and for that, I am grateful.

But that’s not the end of the story.

After my dad had built that church up to about forty people, he left and another pastor came. In a few years, the church outgrew that old building and rented a theater to meet in. And then in 1986, a new building was constructed and a few years after that, another even larger building was built.

Today that little white church runs over six hundred people and continues to grow.

And this was the church that had invited me to come and sing at the funeral of one of its long time members, a woman who just happened to be one of the handful of people who had attended my dad’s church all those years ago.

After thirty-one years, I had the privilege of seeing her husband and her daughter and son once again. They told me how much my dad had meant to them and how they had never felt more loved than when they were attending his church. The son and daughter told me how my sisters and I had been their role models and how inspired they had been by our singing and playing in the services.

And then, one by one, other people (many of whom I no longer even recognized), came up to say that they had also known my dad, that they had been members of that small church, and that their lives had been greatly impacted by our family’s ministry.

In those brief, sweet moments following the funeral, I was reminded of the very thing that I had been grappling with earlier in the day while sitting in the dusty church parking lot. I was reminded that no act of kindness, no song, no sermon, no hug, no word of encouragement ever goes to waste, even though it may seem like such a very small thing at the time.

It might be five years later, it might be fifteen years later, it might even be thirty-one years later, but eventually, the good seed we sow into the lives of those around us will produce a harvest. Sometimes we never get to see that harvest, but other times? We do.

This past Monday night, standing in a thriving church in Albemarle, NC that was birthed out of my dad’s long ago ministry, I got to see a harvest. I got to experience a harvest. It was a harvest of hugs, a harvest of joy, a harvest of precious memories treasured.

And in the middle of the memories, and the stories, and the laughter, I caught a glimpse of my dad.

He was smiling. And I was glad.

Beauty Tips and Sons

Thanks a bunch to everyone who has stopped by the comments area in yesterday's post and left some of your beauty tips and favorite beauty items.

I am learning a lot and hope that you're stopping back by to read the tips your fellow readers have left. For those of you have something to share and haven't done so, please do. I'm desperate here, ladies!

Of course, my favorite comment so far has to be the one from my very own husband who declaimed decidedly that he does not wear make up. At all.

That is certainly good to know.

I worked for quite a while earlier today on a post about my recent trip but I didn't quite get it all said the way I wanted to, so I put that on the back burner so I can work on it more for tomorrow.

But for now, just because I miss those good ol' days frightfully, here are a few pictures of my favorite son. (I'm working in a different posting editor so the pictures are laid out a little weird but, oh well! He's still cute!)

A Beauty Jig. And A Trip.

Last Wednesday, I went to the gym. Because we all know that I am a Health and Fitness Guru and Gym Going Machine. (You can stop laughing now.)

After I left the gym, I went across the street to CVS to pick up an eyeliner pencil, which is one of my (few) must have beauty items.

Take just a moment if you would, to picture me as I’m standing and perusing the beauty aisle. I’m wearing no make up (except for a forlorn dab of lipstick that somehow survived my semi-intense workout), I have an old ball cap pushed down on top of unwashed, mostly unbrushed hair, and I’m wearing a non-too-inspiring t-shirt and sweat pants ensemble that’s perfect for the gym but just slightly less than perfect for wearing out in public.

I’m sure that anybody walking by me would have thought, “My, my! If anyone could use some items from the beauty aisle, that unwashed, uncoifed, unkempt woman surely could.”

After I had picked up my eyeliner, I thought that I would take a few extra minutes to just look at some of the other stuff in the beauty aisle vicinity which turned into a quasi-overwhelming, semi-frustrating task.

Have you ever done that? Have you ever stood in the cosmetic aisle of a store for a month of Sundays, picking up one item after another, squinting at the small type as you read about how this particular miraculous item was being touted to transform your very existence?

And the thing is--while some of those products are an unmitigated waste of money, there are other products that really are excellent. Unfortunately, I am not really on the cutting edge of many things fashion and/or beauty related, so I am generally in a highly clueless state as to what products might be worth trying.

So I continued to stand there and contemplate all the promises of beauty. I sighed a little, squinted a little, read a little, and thought a little. And then I said to myself, “It would sure be nice if I had a hundred girlfriends lined up in the store with me so that each one could recommend her all time favorite item(s) that she just can’t live without.”

And then? Then, I thought about you! And I suddenly got happy! And inspired! And I did a little jig right there in CVS! (Well actually it was an internal jig. Which is much less alarming than my external jig.)

It occurred to me that I could just throw my clueless self on your mercy and ask you to take one (teeny little) minute and leave a comment about what item(s) you truly love when it comes to lipstick, eye shadow, foundation, cleansers, anti-wrinkle stuff, moisturizers, hair products, etc.

If you all will do that, two good things will happen:

• I can get some much needed input
• Each of you could get some new ideas when you read what everyone else contributes

So it’s a win-win situation. And plus, the whole idea just makes me want to jig! And that’s really saying something ‘case I am generally a genuinely non-jigger.

So that’s my request for the day. As a (newly turned) 49-year old woman (headed quickly toward being a newly turned 50-year old woman) I really could use a little bit of fresh beauty inspiration in my life.

Can’t wait to hear what item(s) you just can’t live without.

____________________________________

In other news . . .

I mentioned on Monday that I was going out of town briefly. Which I did. And it was a most lovely time.

It’ll take me a day or two to get some of those trip experiences processed and written down but for now I’ll leave you with a couple photos I took on my way home.

I love the scenes of spring.

Unexpected Inspirations

Saturday afternoon, I got an unexpected phone call from a pastor of a church across the state. He said a lady who's attended his church for a long time often talked about Steve and me, and also about my parents and sisters. (My dad was an interim pastor at this particular church back when my sisters and I were teenagers and then later, when Steve and I were on the road, we sang a couple times at that same church.)

The pastor said that this woman (who was only 63) passed away unexpectedly and it occurred to him that it would be especially meaningful for her family if someone from the Smith/Campbell clan could participate in her funeral. He called Steve and I to find out if it was even a possibility before mentioning it to the family.

As it turns out, I was able to arrange my schedule to go and when he called the family to tell them of my availability, he said they were just absolutely delighted. I am so honored to be invited to be a part of their lives in this special way, especially after twenty-five years!

So I’ll be leaving the house in just a few minutes (at 6:30 am) for the 6-hour trip. I’ll sing at the funeral, stay overnight at a hotel, and then be back home by Tuesday evening.

Unfortunately, Sarah woke up with a fever this morning, mixed in with a case of overall lethargy and “blah-ness;” however, since she doesn’t seem to be terribly sick, I feel quite comfortable leaving her in Steve’s very capable hands.

Sarah just came into the room a minute ago to recite a poem she’s memorizing for a class at school. I was so taken by the beauty of the poem that I wanted to share it with you here. There’s nothing like starting off a new week with an unexpected inspiration and I most am happy to share the Smithellaneous Stage with Maya any old time. (I emphasized in bold the phrases I especially love.)

Touched by an Angel

by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

Love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

And suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

Yet it is only love

which sets us free.

Ahhhh. I am leaving on my trip feeling inspired.

May your day be full of loveliness and unexpected inspirations.