While strangers parade through the house because we have it on the market; we sit in the park and watch the train or look at the lake.
We go to the park and remember that we have no continuing city. But we seek one to come.
I remind myself, especially after a funeral of an elderly friend, that all this earthly life is fleeting like vapor and wild flowers.
Which doesn’t mean we don’t care for our earth places. I believe we were meant to enjoy the beautiful and the orderly, both God’s creation for His glory and our own creative stewarding, again, for His glory.
Stone House Scribblings 