your overcast days, do you see the earth is holding you wrapped in her arms? the moon through the night, stars when there is no moon, and the rain on your face in that cold cold night, most intimate of all when even the stars are lost— with every drop our Mother’s crying with you, every drop on your face saying she was never so far all along.
warm fires and hot soups are nothing til cold long northern nights, warm hearts hold us so much deeper when we’ve known the world’s bitterness, gentle arms to hold us become so much more grateful a home in our storms. your dark cold storms and bitter nights are bringing you home, dears, even when the stars can’t shine yet. even when you can’t see which way this ruthless storm blows your small boat that feels so frail in winds like this. we’re on our way home, we’re all on our way home, searching, finding home where we can, building and mending the best we know how, quietly praying.
there is warmth, there has always been warmth, dears, it has always been there for you and it always will be. warmth and home, home, warmth. we’ll chase those with all that we have, to find them to our hearts and to knit warm home for loved ones— loveds and dearly loveds and strangers, (friends we’ve never met,) friends on their way home too still out in storms and hurting for shelter. be kind to your heart please, dears. and hold it so gently to your heart when someone trusts you with theirs. people are so precious. this life is, so truly, precious.