Red bougainvillea made a splash against a white wall as Tom wondered where he was.
When his mind wandered he’d sometimes get lost in imagined disasters he could do nothing about. Fortunately, although they seemed determined to mess with him to the extent they still could, he had enough sense to reject dark demonic misdirection.
Then Tom saw Phyllis wave to him in the distance. He hadn’t seen her in a decade, not since the funeral. Her smile and the joyful brilliance of the bougainvillea told him his journey was finally over and a new, better one had just begun.
With freeze and thaw of wintry woes some fear the still-life’s gonna die. Why spin the news so fast that I can see the lies beneath fresh snows?
There is the Lamb that heaven shows, the One who can unseal the book. The losing side will try to hook the world with sorrows. Persevere. The sea of glass and fire comes here with victory and praising. Look!
Stanley didn’t like to swim but living near the ocean he didn’t mind, should the Spirit lead him, to take a sunrise stroll along the water’s edge.
The huge quantity of water brought Noah to mind. “That’s where all the water went,” he told himself. Then he provided the explanation that mountains rose while deep sea basins formed to collect the runoff which carved canyons along the way.
When Stanley told others the story of the water no one believed him (except those who did). Perhaps to taunt him for telling the tale of its failure to drown the remnant in that boat, or perhaps to merely remind him what it could still do, the water lapped its waves upon the sandy shore licking off any trace of Stanley’s footprints.
It didn’t require a visa to get where Pete went only a willingness that none of us had to go through that unpromising hole-in-the-wall. Perhaps some of us should have gone with him to point the way back, but we didn’t care that much what happened to him so long as whatever it was didn’t happen to us.
Today decades later and buried in memories our delightful destinations reached their dead-ends. Admittedly we knew this would happen, but we didn’t think it would happen in next to no time.
Pete told us to come along, but were we still welcome in spite of demonic reminders that we were not? Was the breath that coughed its way through our lungs evidence that there was still a bit of mercy left even for the likes of us?