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Sunday, March 31, 2013

Two Sounds

I woke up to two sounds in the night.

The first sound was a crash, an explosion like one from the movies. It started with an ear-splitting crack and then grew like a roar, deep and throaty. My head came up off the pillow and I oriented myself. The sound came from the west and slightly north. After some silence I sat up to listen more. Nothing. I got up and went downstairs to peer out the window. Nothing but the dark rain slapping shiny streets and cars and charging down in columns from the roof.

What in the world could that have been? Nobody else seems to be disturbed. The television glows drearily in the window across the street. It's four in the morning. The blast was framed in silence. No scream, no laughter, no collapsing of structures. "If a tree

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Seed Under Snow

I walked straight into the neighborhood garden store and the door swung closed behind me. The pungent, woody smell of fertilizer lifted my nostrils. One older man muted the television and turned to acknowledge me. I planted my palms on the worn counter.

"I'd like to grow a vegetable garden. I'm wondering what would be the best way to go about it."

He began answering, but slowly. He asked me about my plot size, soil type, deer, sun exposure, what types of vegetables I'd like

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Isaiah Thirty-Five (Continued from 600 wing)

I looked up. He came into his own space with familiarity, strong to the ground, planted and steady. Colorful eyes shown bright with possibility from a strong-jawed, determined face. I recognized something or someone in him.

After brief introductions, we sat down in momentary silence.

"I thought I would connect with you," I probed, trying to find my words. Why was I here? "I'm new to this area. I'm from San Diego. My dad's a pastor, and I was a worship pastor there. My wife and I just moved into the area and I'm looking for opportunities."

"Great. Well, welcome to Michigan. So are you looking for full time or part time or..." I could tell I was at a distance.

"It's not that really, I mean I guess I'm looking for opportunities, just getting a feel." Where was I going with this? "It's not that I want a job - necessarily. I'm looking for people..." I drifted off, words and language evading my grasps. "I wanted to kind of see what's happening here, what God's doing in your church. So I thought I would connect with you."

"What's God doing here," he mouthed. He shook his head as if waking himself from a dream. The distance between us felt smaller as he began to speak.

"This church. Man. This church had it's 'hay day' back in the nineties." With a blue pen he drew a bell curve on a napkin and

Friday, March 1, 2013

600 Wing

Clouds covered low overhead and snow reached wide, covering acres of oak studded farmland. The road I followed tracked like an Etch-a-Sketch, drawing straight black lines in a series of right angles as I made my way southeast.
At the center of a sprawling black parking lot loomed a colossal edifice with high walls and dark hard edges, boxed and sealed with glass and cement, shrink-wrapped and watertight. Like a dormant robotic dog, it sprawled over the asphalt. I circled slowly, unsure which lettered portico was the main entrance.  I swung open the high metal and glass door to a long, carpeted walkway. Coat hangers hung to my left and more doors, drinking fountains, and numbered signposts, letting me know I was one long hallway away from the four hundred wing. The lights were off and the ceilings were unreachable and unnoticeable except for the way they blocked the sunlight. A silent figure caught my eye and vanished behind a distant doorway, above which quietly