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December 19, 2007

Wednesday

You're going on a trip. Why is that horrible?

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It’s Christmas and the night is icy here, but not where you’re going. Where you’re going, there are olive trees, oranges so ripe they will pop on the branches, dripping juice into your mouth. There will be children to play with and caves to explore.

I’ve packed your bag. You won’t need much. Maybe a toothbrush, if you insist. There is no more food for you here, no more room for you to live.

No questions now, just pay attention. Otherwise you won’t get there. Go out the door. Walk straight into the snow. Never turn back.

Yes, it’s magic.

Posted by: Meowbag at December 19, 2007 12:14 PM · Permalink

Front Page Material

Posted by: Ted Bronson at December 19, 2007 5:17 PM · Permalink

I had seen him in the train station, his guitar case open with a display of small change, his fingers moving across the six strings and his smiling voice singing songs of praise.

Today, I’m on the train, headed on yet another business trip. He is here too. Sitting nearby, he reads from the Bible making notes in the margins. His instrument sits at his feet like a faithful dog.

His destination is the next town and a fresh venue in which to share his joy.

I looked at him with admiration and envy. I had nothing to believe in.

Posted by: Rick at December 19, 2007 6:55 PM · Permalink