The man on the porch

Sept 15/11

   I am here. I caught the scent of You when I was reading Zechariah this morning and even though I didn't go back to reread and linger on it... I definitely recognized You. Your heart I guess. 

I don't even know where to begin again Father.

   So we are strolling down the street, the leaves rattle in the branches of the trees that line the road. There is a smell of change and we see leaves falling and riding on the wind that catches them. We are heading east.

   A house is up ahead on the north side of the street. There is a man on a covered veranda rocking absentmindedly in an old fashioned, ornate rocking chair. His eyes are unseeing as his head rests on the chair, his face turned to the east. We approach the veranda with a slow and comfortable pace watching the man closely.  However, the only movement is his chest, rising and falling with shallow breaths. We climb the three steps and You walk over to the railing sitting on it with Your back against the beautiful column, and look in the same direction as the man. I move closer to the man and sit cross legged on the worn planks, still strong yet in need of attention.

   At the same time we find ourselves bent over reaching for a neatly folded quilt on the porch swing. With the softest of laughs we take it over to the man and tuck it around him. I catch a glimpse of that look in Your eye. It is so soft, gentle yet tinged with the ache of desire and a sharing of another's pain. As time slips by we move about the veranda sitting in various places always with a calm quietness. For a while his eyes close as he succumbs to sleep and it is then that I sit in front of his chair so I can keep rocking him.

   The afternoon light begins to fade and move down the street ever so gradually as the shadows lengthen and reach with ever stretching fingers. It is now that You, ever so gently, pick the man up from his chair and take him inside. I do not follow You but hold the door and wait for You to return.

    As You step from the house You reach down and grab my hand and we walk across the veranda and down the steps. There is a purpose and determinedness to Your pace which I instantly pick up on and match. You haven't looked at me but I know it is because Your focus is on the Father. And He is where we are headed. I feel You squeeze my hand as we press on. We come to the edge of the valley and start down the steep slope. For a while we are swallowed up by the still green foliage but slowly the tree trunks grow larger and farther apart. The last vestiges of light that fall at sharp angles through the now ancient trees has a definite warm glow even though it's heat is not felt. At one point we cross the river and start climbing up the boulders and into the openness of the cliff face.
 
    Even though we are not at the top we come to a place where the rock falls back to form a deep ledge. You help me up the last stretch and don't let go but pull me around to face the view with You, Your arms around me. We watch the sun set and then You are there Father. On our left. We all settle down into strangely comfortable places and I watch Your Son reach out to rest His hand on Your leg. Your hand instantly closes over top His in such a loving way. You two are talking but it is like the sound is turned off for me, regardless, I sit transfixed, watching Your movements and expressions. Your gestures move us at times to look at the expanse laid out in front of our eyes... the now glittering stars set in the inky darkness that pulls the eye farther and farther away. After soft expressions of knowing and understanding, I see the glitter of communion in Your eyes and watch the intimate laughter You share. The peace and contentment shown on Your face as for a moment You close Your eyes and nod. Even though I am just an observer I know I am not forgotten and time holds still as I look up and find both of You looking intently at me. My breath catches in my chest for a moment and then I rise and move to sit between You both. I cannot describe this too much happens at once. We sit together looking out and beyond hearing the music of the night and the soft accompaniment of a fire snapping beside us.