Yet today, tomorrow, and the next I must be on my way… Luke 13:33
What is it you are looking for, and where has it taken you?
A tale is told
of a lad who lived
by the bonnie banks of a highland loch.
On rare sundrenched mornings
when the misty veil lifted, he noticed,
along the farther shore, light sparkling on distant windows.
He dreamed up a wondrous place—
a whitewashed cottage
nestled among the heather at the foot of a glen.
And he yearned to undertake
the long trek around the loch
to visit that magical place and discover who lived therein.
So, he rose before midsummer dawn,
when light lasted longest,
to set out on his quest.
It was evening when at last
he rounded the shore and, in the gloaming
glimpsed a humble home not unlike his own.
From the upper window
a young lass
called out her greeting,
as she pointed
to the faraway head of the loch and lilted:
‘See that light, how lovely must it be there.’
Following her gaze,
his eyes fell upon the windows of his far-flung home,
that captured the amber glow of the dying day.
‘Aye,’ he nodded,
‘surely it is a holy place.’
And turned his face homeward.
When the Spirit makes thin the canvas
we see that the universe is a creation. Gwenallt Jones
Whether we know it or not,
Even standing still,
sojourners and voyagers all are we,
on a pilgrim planet adrift in a cosmic sea.
No matter where
we lay roots down,
still we ache for home unfound.
There is no such beauty
As where you belong.
Rise up, follow me
I will lead you home. Stephen Paulus
And who has not felt that pang
we named ‘nostalgia’—
pain for a place long past.
Between questing and resting,
our hearts reach for places
not quite familiar but longed for and loved.
The goal of spirituality is homecoming. John O’Donohue
The draw of seasons
and celestial cycles
urges creatures, in migrating millions, to move.
And, as perennial nomads,
we too feel a lust to wander and explore
landscapes wild, within us and behind each horizon.
Like the cries of geese on the wing,
the lament of exiled, refugee, migrant and homeless souls
whets our ache for homeland.
Our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee. Augustine of Hippo
The meandering path
of pilgrimage leads us
to leave and to leave behind;
a quest that begs questions:
What are we walking away from?
What are moving toward?
The only true voyage of discovery,
the only fountain of Eternal Youth,
would be not to visit strange lands
but to possess other eyes… Marcel Proust
Weaving inner labyrinths,
walking ancient paths, seeking sacred centering,
pilgrims depart hoping to return renewed,
so that in homecoming
they might look lovingly upon the familiar
with vision restored.
The compassing of the God of life upon thee
The compassing of the Christ of love upon thee
The compassing of the Spirit of grace upon thee.
The compassing of the Three preserve thee. Carmina Gadelica
A New Book by Joe Grant