Fund-a-mental

crucifixion

Its amazes me, how all the while the New Testament fulfills the Old.

On Sunday I arrived ‘home’  from a Fundamental Silent Retreat.  I say  ‘home’  because it doesn’t really feel like my home anymore.  Oh what I would do for a little 2-up 2-down like I used to have – or a little log cabin (like the centre parks basic accommodation) – or a little garden-flat somewhere – anywhere – that I could call my own again.  For the peace – the cooperation – the Love – just to be restored – within – without the angst – the sadness – the weight – the uncooperation – the lack of support – the brokenness – but most of all to escape the unutterable daily indifference.

All the money is tied up in these four ancient tired walls, which are not selling at any price – let alone the price needed to make the split viable.  The children need a roof over their heads – they need security – we either sell – or R stays put with the children – and they still have their home.  The man of the house doesn’t truly want to move or sell. He has told me I can leave whenever I find somewhere.  The children can have sleep-overs at my new home – the new home I don’t have.  Despite the fact that we barely communicate he says this is not what he wants – he ‘doesn’t want us to divorce’ despite the fact that the marital relationship has died ~ and he can’t release me any money because he simply doesn’t have it.

Snookered.

Graceless.

Trapped.

Exhausted.

Down.

.

Affordable silent retreat required . . .

 

prayer_4

Ah suddenly miracly appeareth . . .

 

. . . Micklepage!

On Sunday I returned ‘home’ from a Fundamental Silent Retreat.  Oh what I would do for a little place that felt like home ~ full of Love ~ once again.

 

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About mags

Beloved apostle of His Soul x
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