Heavenly

A heavenly crystal craft floats gently down in the arms of the wind. I feel the first one touch my eyelid as I am walking from the school gym. This is not only the first of the day, but the first of many days, the first of the season.

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My feet, encased in shoes, strike trail leaves on a damp forest floor. I am reminded it rained last night. Trees pass me by, stuck like many enormous flagged toothpicks in tiny leaf-soil sandwiches. My pulse is quick, but I am at peace as my lungs draw in breath and steadily release it. I reach the other side of the nature reserve and I turn around. I do not know how far I have come, only that I'm
about half way and beginning to feel fatigued. I lift my chest and my chin and quicken my stride. 

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I read about Jesus at his last meal with his closest friends. He knows one of them will betray him, yet he breaks the bread and gives it to each of them, including his betrayer. They all share a glass of wine. "I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God," says the man readying for crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. He will soon be with his Father and they will share a glass of wine together. 

A seed is planted and cultivated. Juicy grapes are harvested. They are crushed, pressed, and pulverized. The juice ferments and we, along with Jesus, enjoy it both now and in the kingdom to come.

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In the kingdom coming, will everything be static?

Or will there be growth? Will there be a first snow of the death of winter? Will my feet strike fallen leaves, breaking them into soil? Will there be exertion of the body and endurance; will there be crushing and pressing of grapes? 

I do not know how far I have come. Though I know when I am finished I will enjoy a shared glass of wine with my Father and the community of saints. So I lift my chest and my chin and quicken my stride.