tuscany.

Maeg and I spent our weekend in the storybook Tuscan countryside, touring vineyards, tasting wine, exploring small villages and even sun-bathing on a Mediterranean beach.

Once again the dreamlike sensation gave way, as we joined our classmates in picking deep purple grapes off a fertile vine, scampering around the Robin-Hoodesque streets of ancient Pitigliano, or gazing at the smooth sunset hues followed by a smoky afterglow and pixie-dust stars each evening.

But beyond the seemingly painted scenescape surrounding our travels, we both sensed more than what we saw. In a frustrated effort to describe this perceived “unseen” layer, I sifted through lines and lines of inspired beginning-thoughts, recorded on my hand, in my journal or in conversation with Maegan, only to end up wordless.

As we welcomed the renewed Autumn-feel, I could try to explain Maegan’s thoughts on yearly seasons, and the necessity of the rhythm to which they pace life.

As we saw-smelled-heard details of small-life within the encompassing countryside, I could try to remind you of God’s implicit presence in all creation. The reality of living and moving and being in Him.

As we circled through the Medieval pathways in Pitigliano, I could present you with the burning question I longed to ask the grandpa-man behind the window-“What do you believe our purpose is?”

As the post-card and Google images of Tuscany grew animate before our eyes, I could tell you that the mountains and rocks cry out in praise to their Maker, in a very literal manner.

As we peered at the full Italian landscape through a crevice opening in the tufa stone, I could connect my thoughts to Narnia’s Last Battle. When Aslan allows his kingdom to watch the redemption of the World through a wooden door-frame.

But I wont try too hard. Because beyond these few sentences, I do not possess the ability to adequately portray any of it. And I’m glad.

As we sat on the edge of our hill Saturday evening, deeply breathing in the pine-laced lavender aroma of Tuscany dusk, this reverent sacredness stilled my thoughts and my pen. Thankful for the capacity to feel the indescribable in such moments, I am contently reminded that eternity echoes in all of our hearts. And though faint foreshadowings offer tantalizing glimpses into this world, we will continually yearn for the real thing to come.