I awoke this morning in the dark lying beside my beloved Tennessee River. I got up and stoked the fire, went out into the bitter cold moon glow and gathered an arm full of wood, made the coffee and sat down with the Ancient Scroll. Israel blessed his children and was gathered to his fathers. I thought about the Benson family, spread across the eternities of Heaven to a small hamlet in Ohio, those ancient of days to those barely of days. It is almost Thanksgiving when we who are this side of Glory will gather and be thankful, warmly folded again into the wholeness of us awaiting the day when we will all be gathered to our fathers to live forever in Thanksgiving.
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