I have no idea how to properly write a post about the amazing and, here’s the kicker for the blog side of things, indescribable time I had in Hartlepool the past two months. There are some camp and kitsch ways I could go about it: describing what it smells, tastes, and sounds like or just ramble on about disjointed memories that make some form of cohesive sense to me but leave you wanting either an explanation or a drink. So, instead, I submit a rather simple reflection on the coming to a close of it all. I was showered with glitter-laden cards, from young and old alike, which ended up being placed in my Bible and leaving the pages perhaps forever gently flecked from time to time with a sparkle. Appropriate, for as I left Hartlepool, I do not leave them in full. I take, yes in the present, them with me; they are forever inseparable from a time in my life in which I saw God move mountains and transform lives. They are my pinpoints of light that carry me forward to face what this next year shall bring and, in turn, I long to return to them.
This post is not laden with theological conversation, though tomorrow those kinds of reflections will start again. Today I needed to simply put out into the readership, the faithful void, that I was sheerly blessed by the past two months and posts like yesterday, which seemed better than usual, are thanks to the refreshing outpouring of His love I received while these kind, beautiful people took care of me. They have given me so much more than I could have ever given them. Bless them, always.
(Sidebar: my Bible’s sparkle is indeed greater than Edward Cullen’s sparkle, simply by the sheer logic that while EC is dead, my Bible is alive. Take that, Twilight.)