With relative ease, I can envision myself living in Edgartown (my favorite) peacefully contented for the remainder of my life.
That is, if money grew on trees.
Alas! Its only a dream. And, likely a dream that hasn't even a glimmer of a chance of transforming into reality. But, I'm okay with that - simply because digging up my North Carolina roots and transplanting them in Massachusetts would surely diminish my opportunities for a "grandkid-fix." Its doubful I'd be successful in convincing my kids to move there just so this gramma can spoil her grandkids - rotten.
And, to my knowledge, my kids and kids-in-law haven't stumbled upon any money trees either.
Edgartown's cottages are beyond adorably quaint. If you're on Facebook, check 'em out - I've posted pics. Our afternoon stroll was surreal, like we were smack dab in the middle of a storybook, as tranquility saturated our entire beings.
And to think strolling along the streets of Heaven is going to be even better.
Glorious!
Lovingly, I recall years ago listening admiringly as my dear Grandma Ghiata (who now lives in Heaven with Jesus) played her pump organ so beautifully while while singing a favorite old hymn. The chorus went like this:
Oh, that will be glory for me,
Glory for me.
Glory for me.
When by His grace, I shall look on His face,
That will be glory,
Be glory for me.
