Starcradle
Senior Contributor
Tim, I am reminiscing about the early afternoon in which, underneath a clear blue sky in December, I walked home elated yet saddened by the prospect of Christmas break. Jubilant due to obvious reasons--no classes--and melancholy because I would be unable to admire the object of my affections at the time, a quiet boy named Samuel.
I recall the manner in which the sun shone through the leafless trees. I was thirteen years of age.
I long for the simplicity of that time, wherein my mind was not tormented by certain matters that I did not have to confront or even ponder. I had already experienced heartache, yet the wounds were not so profound and layered.
I know the Lord has plans for me above and beyond what I could ask or think: much more excellent than even that afternoon or the total sum of days in which I was liberated of care.
I recall the manner in which the sun shone through the leafless trees. I was thirteen years of age.
I long for the simplicity of that time, wherein my mind was not tormented by certain matters that I did not have to confront or even ponder. I had already experienced heartache, yet the wounds were not so profound and layered.
I know the Lord has plans for me above and beyond what I could ask or think: much more excellent than even that afternoon or the total sum of days in which I was liberated of care.
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(Admit it, you want the bread so that you can try the recipe that I outlined earlier).
