I drive snow covered roads under the blanket of night. Up hill and down; a roller coaster country road slicing through fields waiting, hushed and cold, for spring.
Light twinkles from distant windows; from farmhouses dotted in the dark fields.
The village I call home is a cluster of light in the darkness and I think that fifty years from now, most of us; and a hundred years from now, certainly all of us; will be gone. And this land, this village will be inhabited by people completely different, just as one hundred years ago it was also so.
It makes me think of what really matters. It isn't houses, furniture or any of the stuff we sweat our lives away to buy or dust and tidy!
The only thing that really matters is the way our lives touch the lives of others in the endless chain of connection that forms the river of life.
Do we touch lives at all? Because that matters. Do we touch with kindness and gentleness, humour and grace?
Is our touch infused with the fragrance of the Pierced One? That matters even more.