of a cold November eve

As the chilling air grows fiercer and fiercer out-of-doors, inside, protected from the harsh November winds, the fire dances, glistening before her eyes. The light is mesmerizing, the warmth, delightful.

She is curled up in a chair, which has been edged, little by little, closer to the brick fireplace. In her lap lay the worn pages of a precious book, a book so precious it cannot possibly be read too many times.

Now, let us take a step back. There is a brood of children, grasping plastic swords, running in circles around her, shouting excitedly and rather haphazardly in gay (but awfully loud) voices.

Now zoom back in. The fire is still crackling. Idyllic.

Pan out again: reality.

Zoom: picture perfect.

Pan: life.

Life is not like the movies. It's not even always like the pretty pictures we post on Instagram. There's so much more to it than that. There is depth to life that cannot be portrayed in a picture. Life...is real. Yet even the most real thing we know, is not real. Life is but a picture of eternity, a shadow of true reality.

So, yes, life is so much more than a picture. But eternity -- true life with a living God -- is far more real and better than anything we could ever know here in this life.

I am so thankful for evenings like this one, rowdy siblings and all. But I am also thankful that this is not our home.

Heaven is our home.

Nota Bene: Happy 200th post, Flow Gently Sweet Afton!