Coming home from far

This weekend I got home late both nights, walking alone through the quiet night. I am starting to agree with my friend Catia who says there is a certain “spirituality of the night”. My legs were tired but my heart was really, really full. It’s that old, familiar “coming home from the youth group” feeling. Also that feeling of accompishment of doing scary things... well for me, do you count making parish announcements as scary?

“Men com tamely home at night only from the next field or street where their household echoes haunt, and their life pines because it breathes its own breath over again; their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should come from far, from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day, with new experiences and character.”

(from Walden, by Henry David Thoreau, chapter “Baker Farm”)

Pictures: stained glass at my parish, my daily train trip, a sweet engagement card from my friends in the US I’ve been showing to everyone…