Press On

I’m surprised by the sheer number of children in motion in this house. I shouldn’t be, I guess, I’ve acquired them over time. But I’m amazed at how many of them there are now, and that they all belong to me. Last night I made a line up of Sunday clothes, and it goes all across the spare room bed. I know 4 isn’t that many, but still, I’m experiencing an element of surprise.

This morning we’re going to gather ourselves together and go off for a full morning-8am (no music), 9:15 Education for Everyone, 10:30 (music). And then coffee hour full of lots of little pieces of paper for me from various parishioners reminding of things I’ve got to do, like order toner. And then we’ll come home and collapse.

I think, for me, this morning will be like climbing a mountain, sore as I am. But, as with all the Sundays these last few months, I won’t be climbing on my own.

His thoughts said, The coil of circumstances is beyond anything I ever experienced before.
His Father said, All this assemblage of complicated circumstances is the massif of the mountains thou must climb. There is a way among the boulders of the moraine, between the seracs of the glaciers, over the snow-bridges that cross the crevasses, round the overhanging snow-fields and up the precipices and long aretes. There is a way through the deep shadows that will seem to bar thy path at times. Press on, press on to the summit.

His thoughts said…His Father said…

Amy Carmichael