I stared at this photo I took in my home town in Bicol a few months back. It is a mushroom. That, I can tell. For sure you can tell. 😉
It is soft and pure. A haven. A refuge for those tiny creatures crawling on the ground.
I imagined myself to be that creature. I sought shelter in that white spot.
I thought about home. After 11 years, this year is the second time I wasn’t able to go home at this time of the month.
I miss home. I miss my family. I miss the salty, summer breeze, the twigs, the flowers, the ants – every single thing around me when I am there.
But that mushroom signifies my other home too – a pure and spot-free life like what Jesus had.
This mushroom reminded me everything I ought to be – pure and simple, amidst the grayness and rusticity around me.
And another thing too – to be mushy. Thus, this emotional article. 😀