where there is always a kettle of tea boiling or a pot of coffee brewing, where I can reach
into the cupboard and pull out oatmeal chocolate chip cookies or a freshly baked tart
from the oven to serve to the friends who dropped by for a visit.
Where laughter and tears are equally shared in comfy couches and chairs
around a fire, where no topic of discussion is shied away from, where
everybody is free to speak their minds, and the Great Conversation
never ends, where the dialectic is pursued in love, where goodness
truth and beauty are earnestly sought after with true companions.
A home filled with beauty, art hanging on the walls from
dead masters and living companions skilled in drawing
or painting, where music is always filling the halls,
the piano lid is always open, or friends bring violins,
cellos, guitars, flutes, drums, and St. Anne's On The Hill
is never silent. Voices raised in song, an admiring group
gathered to hear the latest story or poem, duets
practiced, melodies intertwining in beautiful conversation.
A room filled with books, shelves upon shelves
of dark mahogany from floor to ceiling, and each book
is a friend. There are comfortable chairs to read
or daydream in, and people are exclaiming aloud as they
read, talking about their books. Scribbled notes to another
companion, chocolate or tear stains, exclamations
and remembered quotes, all these line the margins
of the books, a conversation between the friends
and the authors gone before and all else who read
these books.
Where everyone is welcome, where truth
goodness and beauty are pursued together
where love of God and love of one another
are the most important things in the world
where true friends have everything in common,
this is a little piece of heaven. This is home.
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