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The Saturday Journal: At Sunset

When I reach that enchanting age--to no longer toil in this workplace--I will be lighthearted.

Especially on Mondays.

I will learn to make beautiful windows--stain glass windows worthy to sing out praises in God's house.

The books on the shelves--those that have patiently waited for me to discover every page will finally get their promise.

I will make my home by the sea.

I will be known to my neighbors as that little woman--the one who lives in the blue and white cottage hedged by the most ordinary white picket fence. They will say--there she goes again in her straw hat laboring in her flower garden.

And every morning I will greet the sun with the sand and seafoam slowly creeping in between my toes, and I will stake my claim to the first sea shells on shore--the ones tired of the jagged ocean life.

And yes, I do want you there with me.

I will make my home surrounded by the glory of mountains and trees and wildflowers--beauty that can only be painted by the hand of God.

There will be a river beside my cabin.

And it will have a front porch, a porch with a swing and two weatherworn rockers. A porch is truly not a porch without rockers and a swing.

The biggest geraniums will adore the stoop and I won't forget the green ferns--oh the luscious ferns that will graciously hang from the eaves.

And the neighbors will say--there she goes again, off to her favorite fishing hole wearing that old worn out fishing hat--waders and carrying a rusty fly rod, her weaved basket, and fishing net--just in case she catches the big one.

I won't fear wading in the water, my faithful friend of ten years will be there with me.

He loves the water and he will patiently watch over me.

And in return, all he will want is a tender touch and the chance to retrieve his favorite stick.

I will admire the rainbow trout that politely gave in to my fly and in consideration for his gift--I will lower him gently into the clear of the stream and watch him swim away.

I will lie in my row boat and listen while the loons sing their lonesome songs.

At the end of the day I will sit on my front porch and watch the sinking sun turn the water into glimmering glass.

And yes, I do want you there with me.

I will make my home on the road traveling to unfamiliar lands.

I will explore the jungles of Africa and ride the train through the mountains of France and stop along the way to pay my respects at the World War II graveyards.

I will drudge through the snow in Alaska to see the sprint of the baby cub catching up with her mama grizzly. I will stow away in the valleys and the highest of peaks in Montana and Wyoming and I will quietly wait for the bugle of the majestic elk and catch a glimpse of the humble face of the American bison.

The people will talk --not understanding--and they will say--there she goes again...

And I will see the world through my camera lens--through the simple joy of pecking out words on tired typewriter keys--through the grandeur of nature--the unbridled beauty of this world--through the pages of books and dreams and stories and conversations and I will smile.

And yes, I am certain--YOU will always be with me.


A humble and heartfelt thank you for reading.

If you would like to have The Saturday Journal  and Stories from the Mouse's Hole come to your email box, please subscribe to A Beautiful Grace blog and newsletter at

All photos @copyright Tathel Miller, unless otherwise credited to another photographer.


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