Sunday, 31 January 2016

Morning Mist

These watery mornings can sit heavily on the soul. The boat heaves on sullen tides. An incessant drizzle blurs the landscape. The news seems unremittingly bleak - violence and vulnerability, despair and disintegration.

Then I walk out onto the dock, and I see a boat ploughing against the tide, with a gull frolicking about its bow. Suddenly, my heart becomes that gull, and all the timebound distractions and worries hang suspended in some eternal now.

Maybe heaven is this - not a future reality to be anticipated beyond this mortal world, but the sudden surprise of eternity breaking through through the cracks in time, sneaking up and catching us unawares, reminding us that we are specks of dust in the dance of creation, and yet we are beautiful as we catch the light and play in the mist and turn and swirl in the breath of God.

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