i am a little church

Well, we've moved! And thinking our lives might be a tad less silent than heretofore... I managed to make dinner in a chaotic fashion (where's the garlic? where's the knife? how in the heck do you light this stove? see if you can find the glasses...) before we rushed out, late, to the group. Stuff everywhere - thought we hardly had anything, but at least the bed is made, and the landlords have given us two small heaters, so not too freezing.

Poem today by e e cummings about a little church, so I walked down to a small chapel on our new road - built in middle of 17th C, eventually used as a stable, but restored fairly recently by a private individual. Impossible to get a proper photo of the front, as the small bell and marble cross are hidden by the trees:

i am a little church (no great cathedral)
far from the splendour and squalor of hurrying cities...

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope, and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains
                               ...
i am a little church (far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish) at peace with nature...

Again, a call to inhabit fully wherever we've been placed, to be at peace there, and bear our witness to "merciful Him Whose only now is forever".