The Journey

For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish.  And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?

Esther 4:14

A man and his wife were traveling - driving the highways and byways, enjoying the out-of-the-ways - the sceneries and eateries they encountered.  Friendly, they looked forward to conversations with other travelers, with locals; they looked forward to learning about the people and places they visited.  There was no destination; it was the journey they sought.  

On one particular day, the man and wife stopped by the side of the road.  A man and woman were standing on the shoulder - a young man with ebony skin, a young woman, tanned and blonde - together they held a sign.  Stop.  Look.  Listen.  So the traveling man and his wife did.

Later, as they drove on, the man asked his wife about their unexpected stop.  "What did you see?"  He asked.

"I saw Brotherhood."  She replied.

The man looked at her in surprise.  "I saw Strife."  

"What did you hear?"  She asked him.

"The wind in the trees, the cars on the road, the shifting of Time." He replied.  "You?"

"The wind in the trees, the cars on the road, the shifting of Time." 

The road wound through and around the countryside, up hills and down valleys, around fields and trees, over and under bridges, broad rivers and sparkling streams.  It unraveled by farmhouses and silos, barns and yards, clipped, mowed, overgrown - by hedges, gardens, and rows of crops.  The man and his wife began to notice more traffic, more buildings, more signs.   The air was less clear; it smelled stale and muggy, with a hint of sulphur.  They approached the city in a snarl of traffic lights and intersections, on-ramps and off-ramps, and green-and-white signs - directions to new-and-different destinations.

The man pointed.  Three words flashed in neon across the intersection.  Stop.  Look.  Listen.  So the traveling man and his wife did.

Later, as they sat together eating, the man asked his wife about their second stop.  "What did you see?"  He asked.

"I saw people.  Neighbors.  I saw Brotherhood."  She replied.

The man looked at her in surprise.  "I saw people.  Strangers.  I saw Strife."

"What did you hear?"  She asked him.

"Voices, and vehicles - the sounds of the city, and the shifting of Time."  He replied.  "You?"

"Voices, and vehicles - the sounds of the city, and the shifting of Time."

The day was drawing to a close.  As was the road.  Out of the crowds and congestion, it had unwound to rest, finally, at the end of a long spit of land.  The man and his wife held hands and drank in the sight of endless water before them - rolling, cresting, and spilling toward the broken rocks and sand strewn beyond the black ribbon of pavement.  The sun - brilliant orange - sat low on the horizon - perched on the shifting blue of the ocean - precarious, beautiful - sliding past the edge in holy silence.  They held hands and drank in the twilight; they shared the birthing of the stars in the darkening night.  They gasped together when one fell, in a wayward streak of light.

"What did you see?"  He asked his wife.

"I saw God - sending His message of Light to the world."  She replied.  

The man looked at her in surprise.  "I saw a flash, like lightening, live and then die."  

"What did you hear?"  She asked him.

"The surf and the sea, the wind across the dunes, and the shifting of Time."  He replied.  "You?"

"The surf and the sea, the wind across the dunes, and the shifting of Time."

She nestled close to him, breathing him in, comforted, safe, loved.  The man rested his eyes on his wife, flesh of his flesh, one with him.  They sighed together, an unplanned choreographed release of the day, of their differences, of their sameness.

It was, after all, the journey they sought.

Father God, who's to say that the very differences that pull us apart, aren't intended to eventually draw us together.  Thank you for the opportunities of this day.  Thank you for change.  Thank you for Time.

Linking with: Faith Filled Friday

Something to See

The LORD your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.

Zephaniah 3:17  New American Standard Bible

Her visit to the base was going to be short.

"Post," she reminded herself.

Her son had told her again just that morning - "Base is Air Force, Post is Army."

She pushed the smile down.  He was being such a show off.  All those acronyms and specialty words.  Military words.  Like a code; he was in a secret-code brotherhood.  This time, the smile stayed for a second.  Imagine, her big, old football-hero, should-have-been-in-college, got-the-girlfriend-pregnant son, was graduating from his AIT school - Advanced Individual Training.  He'd scored pretty well on the test thingy the Army had given, and now he was graduating.  Then he was moving.

Now, he wanted her to go to chapel with him.  With them.  He'd married the girlfriend...she was as big as a house, due any day now.  Church?  They hadn't gone as a family when her son was at home.  Sure, she believed in God and all...  But church had always just succeeded in interfering with their weekends.  And the endless sermons on giving and tithing, fire and brimstone....Ugh!  Sometimes the music was ok, though.  Well, she figured it was the least she could do before he left for his first duty station.

He said she didn't need to dress up.  The chapel on post was pretty casual.

"Ok", she thought, stepping into her boots, "here goes."

So now she was sitting in the pews.  She had been surprised at the amount of cars in the parking lot - surprised by the size of the building.  Chapel?  This was a full-grown church.  Her son had proudly explained about the Spiritual Fitness Complex - a craft building, a gym, classrooms, kitchen, and last but not least, the sanctuary.

"Of course, we share it with the Catholics," he said, his eyes twinkling.

She looked around.  There were lots of people.  Young, mostly.  Lots of families with kids.  There were a few older people - dressed up.  The young ones - she guessed they were soldiers - some tattoos, short hair, high and tight, she remembered - shaking her head - all those code words...  The young ones were mostly in t-shirts with rock bands emblazoned.  There were a couple of pews with soldiers in uniform.  Women, too - not just men.  Warriors.  The old-fashioned word came to her mind.  Yes, they were trained in warfare. Warriors.   Her son and his wife fit right into the crowd.  He wasn't even the biggest guy there, with his football muscles and height.

The praise band was pretty good.  The big screens were down and the words and pictures were marching along.  She was standing with everyone, singing.  The lights were dimmed.  It was such a new place; she kept noticing goofy details.  A typo on the screen -

"Really," she thought, "we can't use spellcheck.."

She looked at her son to see if he'd noticed.  No, he was standing with arms stretched up and tears.  Tears.  Streaming down his face.  She looked farther - the soldiers in uniform, the tattoos, - they were standing with faces upturned, palms raised.  It was like a brotherhood.

"My chains are gone.  I've been set free.  My God, My Savior, has ransomed me... "

Now she was listening to the words.  To the meaning.

"And like a flood, His mercy rains.  Unending love, amazing grace."

Imagine that, she thought.  Imagine unending love.  Her divorce had been nasty; her ex-husband had done everything in his power to discredit and break her.  But she had managed.  Unending love - what a comfort that would be.  And grace...she had not always been perfect.  Understatement.  She knew chains.

"But God who called me here below, will be forever mine..."

The music had ended.  She heard the rustling of the congregation, sitting, adjusting.  She could feel their attention, their focus.  The message was about God's love - in the midst of battle, overseas, on post - about God's everlasting, ever-present love.  There was something about seeing those tough-looking, muscles-showing, tattooed kids worship, that had pulled her into this service.   Drawn her next to this brotherhood - like she could look in, but couldn't quite join.  It was something to see those big men pray.  Humbling.

More music.  She looked again at her son, with new eyes.  He was the believer.  Not her.  She looked at her daughter-in-law.  A believer.  Joy apparent on her face.  She had heard about the Spirit being present in a service.  Now she had seen it.  She wanted that.  She wanted that joy; she wanted that grace; she wanted that unending love.

He smiled down at her.   They walked together to the altar rail.  Wouldn't you know it would be a warrior - her soldier - her son - leading her to peace...

Thank you, God, for our soldiers.  Our warriors.  Keep them and their families safe.

Linking with Beth at Three-Word Wednesday