This morning, I awoke to the sound of activity in the house – distant laughter amongst the guests who were staying for an indefinite time.

The birds were chirping happily outside in the luscious garden that was adorned with deep green grass and colourful flower borders.

As I got out of bed, I realised that my room was on the ground floor.

What do I mean by, ‘realised’? Didn’t I already know that? No I did not.

Why? I tell you later.

I made my way to the patio doors which were open wide. Two brilliantly white doors with gleaming silver handles invited me to step across the threshold into the serene atmosphere ahead.

As I stepped out onto the veranda, I was overwhelmed by the burst of heat that hit me as my body came into direct contact with the blazing sun.

I can’t begin to describe how wonderful it felt. What a morning!

Through the gleaming dazzle, I gazed up at a pretty cherry blossom tree to my right and I closed my eyes for a few seconds.

Tilting my head back and inhaling deeply, I once again basked in the heavenly warmth that caressed my bare arms.

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It was only 6am but my mum had already put the washing out to dry. Garments were blowing gently back and forth, although I could feel no breeze.

Wow! What time did mum get up? She’s been extremely organised! How could she have so effortlessly awoken, gathered the dirty clothes, placed them into the washing machine, taken them out later and hung them on the line before dawn? This is England! Where’s the heavy dew? Why is she not tucked up in bed?

The aroma of crispy bacon wafted through the air, beckoning me to join the others for breakfast.

I wandered back inside and went to check out another bedroom. This one has a balcony overlooking magnificent Yorkshire hills.

Across the yellow sky I could see cottages in the distance and the silhouette of other early risers having their breakfast on the far side of our balcony.

My mum arrived looking fresh and calm and she greeted me with a big smile.

As I stared at her, I marvelled at how lucky I was to be here in this home with an amazing mum and a wonderful ambience of joy and sunshine.

That was it.

A grating noise began to ring in my ear –  the familiar sound of my phone beckoning me to wake up.

Yes, if you had not guessed already, I had been dreaming – fast asleep in my land of perfection.

On this cold, dark day nearing the month of July, I pulled the duvet over my shoulders and twitched the curtains to  look outside.

As usual, England in the summer looked like winter in the forest as rain dripped of every leaf, twig and sill.

I thought about my mother who is 320 miles away, housebound and lonely as she bears the late stages of Parkinson’s Disease. She can hardly make her bed and struggles to lift her hand up to brush her hair.

One day, one day.

One day she will be free to arise with the sun and potter around blissfully. One day we British,  those who worship Jesus, (I can’t vouch for any other) will awake to a bright new morning that never fades into night.

“But Australians and Californians experience stuff your dream was made of! They have all that right now!”

Umm, yea…but along with the al fresco breakfasts they have deadly spiders in their shoe, box jellyfish in their sea, cancer in their skin, earthquakes, hurricanes and minds driven to distraction by the visual – a life that leads to unnatural appetites and unbreakable addictions. No peace of mind.

Uh, uh, I’m talking about complete perfection. Total satisfaction.

The presence of God the Creator , God the Holy, who is also God the Father, God the Healer, God the Best Friend and no-one doubts it for a minute. The presence of God and everything wonderful that he’s made. Forever.

Well, it’s time to get out the car and walk to the chemist in the pelting rain so that I can pick up some more flea treatment for my cat. On this penultimate day in June, I am freezing cold and wishing I’d brought my coat. The one I wore in December (and last week).

But I need this ‘Frontline’ to kill these pesky mites. I gotta memory like a sieve so I keep forgetting to treat my fluffy little Harry.

Oh how I’d love to stay in the car and spend hours thinking back on my glorious dream!

But me bloomin’ leg’s itchin’!

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