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.
Affordable silent retreat required . . .
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.