"…to wander forth, with me to mourn, the miseries of man…"

Mood: Of a body well rested and a mind clear…

Weather: The bitter cold roars in whirlwinds of red-gold leaves…

Reading: The Gospel of Luke

Listening To: Falling Slowly, by Glen Hansard & Markta Irglov

Another slow and cold Saturday morning…

Candace is working today so, naturally, I was unable to sleep once she departed under the cover of Dawn`s shadows. Arising with chattering teeth, I stepped gingerly down the creaking stairs and into the sun-kissed Kitchen.

A hot cup of Tea and slice of Toast later, I begin to shake loose the lingering drowsiness of a late night`s rest.

I turn on some quiet Music, and let the melodies lovingly caress my mind. Music… and words, awakening the echoes.

The children remain asleep in their beds, so I adjourn into the Study to sit and think for a while…

My mind recalls the words of a dear brother I spoke with last week, Cyprian Masambe, a missionary to Uganda. His tender and gentle demeanor concealing a great depth of ardent passion for the Gospel. Hearing brother Masambe talk of the progress and struggles of his ministry were a blessing, and I was privileged enough to share a few minutes of private conversation with him and his dear wife Margaret later in the evening.

I peppered him with several varied questions, all of which he was glad to answer and seemed in no hurry to end our dialogue – going so far as to ask to exchange email addresses with me that we might continue our exchange in correspondence.

Verily, it was a blessing to meet such a man… and to behold what GOD is doing in a corner of the world I have never seen.

I think also of some of my own endeavors… research on a fine point of Scripture for a dear elder Sister at my local assembly, a meeting with my Pastor this LORD`s Day, and the impending Bible “study group” my beloved and I are to be hosting in the coming days.

There remains many more undertakings on the horizon than there are at present, and I still am not caught up in my correspondence.

Drifting further in thought, I gaze out the windows as the Sun crests the tree-line…

Friday was my last day of work at my previous position, and Monday is the first day of my new one… a great challenge for me, one that I have longed for since I resigned from the Boys & Girls Club that I once directed.

The school is one of no small reputation, of both positive and negative attributes. While it is renowned for its exceedingly high standards and exemplary results, it is also “feared” (for lack of a better word) by the local teaching community for the type of students that walk its halls.

My colleagues have expressed both admiration and apprehension at my decision, conceding that it is indeed a “wonderful opportunity” while also cautioning me about the rougher elements in gossiping, hearsay, and anecdote.

For most of its students, it stands as the “last chance” before Juvenile Hall – and the students I will be working with are the ones that are first in line in being shoved out the door.

The birds have lifted their voices, and I hear the children beginning to stir upstairs… I start preparing breakfast and think about the week that has just passed.

Wednesday was the turning of another month, and I marvel at the transience of this Season – how quickly September`s greens fade to October`s golden fire, rustling and crackling underfoot into a new November. The time of harvests, of frost upon the pumpkins.

My children come giggling down the steps and Sophia murmurs her bemusement with it all… I hug and kiss them to the little Breakfast nook in the kitchen, and leave them for a moment so that I might put down my scattershot musings before they fade with the morning mists.

I have succeeded, and now the day begins…


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