The olives would be ripe for picking now and someone’s hand would pluck them from their stems as she had hoped to do and carry them across her sunlit courtyard to the house— the place she’d tended, where she’d laughed and loved and where she’d hoped to age, like the oak beams that held her home together, durable, immovable…. Well, that was what she’d dreamed. Instead of that, she lived an exile’s life, camped here, camped there, but never settled down for long enough to let her heart take root in foreign soil and learn to call it home. “No fixed abode” (an ugly little phrase) and yet the Lord God was her dwelling place.
Sarah (II)
Sarah (II)
Sarah (II)
The olives would be ripe for picking now and someone’s hand would pluck them from their stems as she had hoped to do and carry them across her sunlit courtyard to the house— the place she’d tended, where she’d laughed and loved and where she’d hoped to age, like the oak beams that held her home together, durable, immovable…. Well, that was what she’d dreamed. Instead of that, she lived an exile’s life, camped here, camped there, but never settled down for long enough to let her heart take root in foreign soil and learn to call it home. “No fixed abode” (an ugly little phrase) and yet the Lord God was her dwelling place.