Most days in Bircii go on like normal.
Many of those days I walk our road,
whispering a prayer as I walk past the Ministry Land.
In the winter months, I'm thankful for these attachable cleats,
but today I'm not so thankful that I didn't realize a guy was behind me when I stopped to take pictures of my boot.
My milk is waiting for me,
and somebody else's drink is waiting for him.
I head back home, and imagine the torrents of water that will wash down this gully when spring arrives.
In the house I start the supper preparation, pasteurizing the milk, then bottling it.
The sausage has made it's journey from Heather and Pavel's pig, and via their butchering, packing and curing, is now cooking slowly in our home.
Today I'm wishing many of you could join us for the norm.
Thankfully, He already has.
"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?" Ps. 139:7