IS IT STILL GREY IN THE UK? I’ll miss the colours here. Reds and blues, and greens and yellows and gold. I haven’t been missing grey. And I’ll miss the mellowness of our days here. Leisured meals, early bed, books, seaside ambles, no phone, time to write, birdsong, meditation, time and space to pray. I could cheerfully stay.
But would it begin to pall? I’m always aware, as a taker, a holiday-maker, of mucho trabajo for the smiling people here who maintain it all. And aware too of Egypt, Libya, New Zealand’s earthquake – the world has carried on, with good and ill, in the brief time we’ve been away.
It’ll be right and good when it’s time to fly home, whether or not the UK’s grey. For now we dreamers must live in the “real world”. And, God willing, we’ll return here anyway.
Yet dreaming, in the midst of this world’s action, is actually the ground of my faith. I dream of a new kingdom come some day, where in colours, and peace, no more destruction, or pain, souls amble, hear birdsong, live in love, and – returned – feel they’ve never been away.
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