One does not always have to travel far to travel far. The trip can happen in unexpected places, like in the back yard while raking leaves. I do not know when I last felt as I felt that Wednesday afternoon recently, but here is what I wrote in my journal in an effort to "photograph" the moment.
I mean really real.
And, yet, they hover just out of reach.
If I try to look at them,
they fade.
I find they are better felt than seen,
and they are felt best
when I look at something else,
like the sun's light on the growing pile of leaves at my ;feet,
or a cloud against the blue sky over head,
or at the old wooden gate just a few feet away.
Perhaps I last felt this way in my college years
when the last test was behind me
and summer...or life... stretched out before me,
but not quite yet.
That moment everything took on a fresh,
unencumbered authenticity.
An authenticity mingled with the wish that it could last forever,
and that it could include
a harmony of all I hold dear and all God calls good.
I think this is a youngish sensation
made richer now by things as yet unknown in my youth.
Or perhaps it is a longing for a renewal of that time of ignorance.
To what can I liken it?
It is the highway from college to home
the interstate passing beneath the wheels of my old Buick
on a sunny Friday afternoon.
It is the back yard of my childhood world
where I have paused in my solitary play
to look at nothing in particular
and imagine myself somewhere else
and think I might actually be there someday.
It is waiting for someone to come
and fill the reality with laughter
and talk
and friendship.
It is wanting to be told
I'll never have to leave this moment.
It is the soft whisper of wind
promising a symphony of rain.
It is the dancing of raindrops
beating a cadence
that promises
the soon arrival of spring sunshine.
It is the prospect of a secret garden
behind that faded gate near where I now stand
with rake in hand.
It is the promise of a "welcome home"
on the other side of every front door
when I drive past
but do not have time
or permission
to stop.
It is a feeling like all of these;
yet much more.
I suppose such moments
can wash the shores of many souls.
Even those who have no care for God
still have his breath about them.
But for me the moment
is enlivened
with more explainable things:
It is the memory of One
who stood up for me
when I deserved to be forsaken,
and the peace of having such a
Champion.
It is forgiveness understood
and embraced,
and it is the embrace of forgiveness
felt.
It is gracious
non-patronizing
acceptance
and the door
of exhilarating relationship
thrown wide open.
It is the thrill of destiny
springing from revealed Truth
which can be stared at
and it will not fade.
While the feeling cannot be taken captive,
the Truth behind it promises the day
when my soul will be able to constantly endure
such a delicious atmosphere...
and look it in the face.
Raking leaves can be fun.
hhcomings 2014
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