The Burning Hut
Current mood: content

The Burning Hut

The only survivor of a shipwreck washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stung with grief and anger.

"God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.

Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers.

"We saw your smoke signal," they replied.

It is easy to get discouraged when things are going bad. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering.

Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground, it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.

10:38 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

This side by moonlight.
Current mood: contemplative

The moon rose full tonight.  Outside of my window I can hear the nightingales singing their night song and off in the distance I can hear the howls of the coyote's as they run up and down the levees of the river.  It is a stage of wondrous beauty and sound, but sadly it is a stage shared with an ongoing tragedy as well.  The Colorado River and the Rio Bravo del Norte, along with 700 miles of fence and undefined line are the final obstacles for millions every year seeking a dream, and seeking a new life for themselves and the ones they have left behind in villages that stretch from here to the tip of South America.

And I know tonight, as on almost every night, amidst all of this beauty that on the river a head will slip under the water and not be found for three or four days.  Oh there will be a notice in the paper telling of such, they are printed every day.  But in those far away villages young mothers and old parents will never hear the news and each day of silence will be one of growing pain and  loss.  Their hope will never die that the person who left when they were so young and strong will one day return.  They don't know that they lay under the sands with a marker and a number that says unknown immigrant.

The beauty of the night continues, the moon, the nightingale and the coyote continue their concerto of music.  And the ripple that was made by one person with a dream is lost in the flow of the river.

bnr

3:46 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

The Day I Died
Current mood: contemplative

10:00 AM .. March .. 10 Kilometers South of San Felipe .. Baja California - Mexico

I stand at the edge of the sea.
There - the hurt from some far storm, or
Maybe some heart just next to me seizes me in its grip.
And I find myself naked, stripped - with no defense .. yet -

This pain .. this crush .. I welcome it ..
My chance to challenge death has come.

Above my tears I hear a friend - sharing the love of silence.
.
I know .. I must .. I can't .. I will myself ..
To release .. let go .. surrender .. to bend the knee....I-let-me-die.

In the moment .. in this one act of seeming madness......

The embrace .. the shout .. the victory ..
All that I want .. all that I need .. is given me.
This one .. my God - this storm .. this friend .. this faith in my Father..s love........
has given me life.

I am a child again.

1:59 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment