Thoughts from A Sacred Grove

I locked my door one too many times and for a second the car horn broke the stained glass vision before me.

I am now tranquilized by the quiet newness the rain creates.

The smell of fresh rain and cold bark seems to penetrate my mind and cleanse the assaulting memory of work the day before.

Somehow this grove is made that much more sacred by the lack of leaves not found on the trees this cold fall day.

Rain always reminds me of the atonement.

As I walk through these naked trees longing for spring, I feel at home. Sometimes it takes time to see time and right now I see time.

My imagination is carried away to thoughts larger than me. Could it have been there where he proved that the, "same yesterday today and forever" isn't just a clever sales gimmick?

As I watch each drop explode into a thousand questions of how, I am filled with a thousand tears of gratitude as to the reasons of why.

I am told it was like a wine press, I am told it was for us all; I was told a lot of things but as I sit on the rain soaked ground feeling is all I need to know.

Even those who don't believe still connect at moments with the King of the king-less and the Father of the lonely and oppressed.

He carried it well. I was there we all were, shouting and crying unabashedly as the painting of truth was found in the brush strokes of each foot as he climbed that hill.

For too long those acidic, electric sirens have torn down mansions built from the cardboard walls of insecurity and broken promises.

Oh to be like these trees strong and clean with the backbone of simplicity, a farm boy saw god.

A farm boy saw god here! I believe.

And I will continue to believe until the first tick of time has been found and the last tock of eternity has been counted.