Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My script of joy, immortal diet,
y bottle of salvation.
My gown of glory, hopes true gauge,
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

~Sir Walter Raleigh

A hiker, walking for pleasure, likes to choose between several alluring trails.
The pilgrim desires only the road that leads home.

~Frank W. Boreham

Monday, October 4, 2010

The Year Of The Daughters, Part 1

Daughters Three. Close in age, to be sure, close by blood and Blood, also remaining very close by sisterly affection. All grew to become remarkably gifted, breath-takingly beautiful, amazingly witter, clever, funny women. All are the delight of all who know them and love them.

For myself, not only do I feel blessed by their being on this planet, but I consider them among my most treasured and trusted friends. That is not such an odd thing. After all, we grew up together.

Sovereignty has called these daughters to quite different pilgrim paths, quite different life styles, and for many years placed them in quite different geographic locations.

The story of their years would read quite differently in many respects just as that of their mother.

Every year of our lives has had significance. Every year is memorable yet all are not remembered equally. Some fade and blend into the others. Some, however, are highlighted in the mind and heart because of events.

One year in particular was like no other. First there was a wedding, the eldest, Daughter Number 1 of this narrative, and Number 1 in truth.

It was a most beautiful, and for our family, grand wedding.

It was Big City. It was High Church. It was Glorious Cathedral. The bride was gowned in a swath of lovely Designer creativity. But like the other two previous, the bride was beautiful and radiant. The groom too, for that matter was radiant - yes, grooms can glow too.

The ceremony, solemn, the reception boisterous, the 'cake', apple pie.

And so from a glorious wedding, another solid, loving marriage began.

Within a few short days the theme switched. There was a baby to be born by the youngest of the daughters, Number 2 in this story.

A dear, wee lad entered the family. The homecoming was a small, cozy mountain cabin knee deep in Autumn's golden splendor. There was no bustle or fanfare. All was peaceful and picture book - very Little House on the Prairie, or in this case, on the hill in the woods. Two still-small daughters greeted the new arrival with gentle sisterly regard. All was love and affection and peace.

Swiftly moving days, again very few in number, found the focus of yet another event, yet another little one's arrival. Daughter 3 of this account was actively involved. Up North and Back of Beyond in snowy Alaska became the birthplace of a dear wee lass. Many miles were traveled between the small town of her birth to the log cabin home where she would begin her life's pilgrimage. She too, was greeted and lovingly received by two older adoring sisters and ushered into a home of peace.

All these events happened in a ten day span. There was hardly time to catch the breath or shift the mental gears, yet each is seen with the eyes of the heart in vivid, living color. Each is seen, while separate, as truly wonderful. A highly colored swath in the family tapestry.

From these have been added many lovely events and memories, other babies and weddings of some of these babies. Yes, a very rich tapestry. Numerous blessings of Grace from the Father of All Grace and Faithfulness.

Please stand by, Dear Reader for Part 2 of this saga.


  1. From Daughter #2 of order, #3 of the account...Lovely.

  2. A very busy, happy time! Part 2 please. :)

    Love the photo.