...And Who Might You Be?
And yet, in lieu of company, I feel more like solitude these days - seeking the lonely places along everlasting fencerows and under darkling sky. I've grown to love the smiling sound of the car heater (for more reasons than one) and the dull glow of the dash lights - like the populations of a small mechanical world lain out in numbers. It's become one of those comfort sounds, and I've become the cat that sleeps on top of the clothes dryer. But those places where there are no TVs and no phones, and the night sky rumbles with that faint Delacroix indigo-orange against the low stratus clouds, bleeding light from distant cities and billboards, while the pastures around are dark and whispering with the breathing of cattle and the hiss of wind - those are becoming more of a treasure to me. Not to say that I am so great as to don a cowel and stay there. As you can see, I'm on the World Wide Web. But, ever so slightly, I think more that the Gethsemanes are where - like the word says - the soul is crushed, and precious things flow outward from its crushing.
These are where I might see a little more of my face, by seeing a little more of His Face. These places are where the "why?" and the "how?" become a "who?" and the answer is reverberating next to me as it always has, since Adam, and now, to Adam. And the marriage is built on a promise, on a vow.