Dreary cold rain today—determined to walk toward light. Re-fingered my rain-faded Thanksgiving message in the sand pile—accion de gracias—while the carpet team, wearing knee pads, nailed tack strips and measured floor space.
Exhausted and coming up for air after carpet installation—last box unpacked. I fingered a second message in the sand: paz de la terra. The snowman with peace sign faded first. Broke a glass frame this morning; can’t find any gift ribbon; thinking I threw it out in all the confusion. Walked into the new room—snow? Outside, brickers placed white plastic film high over the windows. Inside, it looked like snow enclosed the room. Story for today: brickers can’t work in 35 degrees or colder.
Noah’s ark metaphors afloat here: writing in the sand (in a staycation year, God brought the ocean to us!); our front door glass inserts are rain; our wood floor floats; Cayman Dolphin tile accents the master shower.
Lord, may this be a true ark of safety for all who enter.