may flowers bloom where you tread. may your voice be a healing balm to those who need it; may your hugs seal tears. may you be mother and sister and friend and as you soothe their hearts with porridge and song may it warm yours too. above all i pray you come back home.
once somebody mused about the beauty of cathedrals to a friend, and she replied, "if it feels like home, go home." i pray that in those stained glass windows and white carved walls you find again your greatest love. that you will remember the locket with the saints you used to wear, and that you will ache to finger it again. i remember the days where you glowed with a pure, peaceful love, amidst all the brokenness on either side of you. you showed me your book of prayers and taught me to say them together with you. love radiated from your soul and you were the mother of the world, of all the broken and poor. He gave you that grace, that anointing, over people and animals alike.
i pray that tonight you remember those days. that He will open the door to His heart and invite you in, that He will lead you into his rose garden and dance with you there. that as you hold His hands and fall in step with Him, you will taste again of His sweetness. dear child, beloved daughter, come home to His arms; find yourself again in Him.