Good Friday pondering on the trail

With my heart and head wrapped around the transformational love of the cross, my ears receive the soothing “whooo…whooo” of an owl… somewhere… watching?… welcoming?…

I peer through the darkness in search of the gift to my ears.  On the other side of the little valley, high in a tree, the silhouette is revealed…vaguely.

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I tilt the lens to the ground to adjust and…

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Disappointed, while laughing inwardly,  my eyes are then blessed with “the valley” before me.

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With my feet still firmly set in the same position that received the blessing of the owl’s welcome and the promised light, yet to rise, but still illuminating the world around me, I turn and receive, yet again, the blessed memory of a solid, grace filled and loving presence…AKA…Herman.

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Then, a tiny figure is revealed to me through its flight, and then while gazing back at me while perched on a snowy branch.  Good morning, friend.

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I look closer, into the valley from where I’ve come.  My eyes trace the trail that led me to this blessed spot and moment, surrounded by sounds and visuals, stimulating my mind and soul.

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Another winged friend, more bashful than the other, reluctantly sits quietly, allowing my eyes to be washed with its blueness, which stretched to the corners of my face and turned them upward.

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Then, a familiar neighbor joins me on the trail, on his way to the top.  We greet one another with handshakes and “Blessed Good Friday and, since I won’t see you before, Blessed Easter to you.”

He continues up and then returns with the words, “The crucifixion really reveals a different kind of suffering, doesn’t it?”  “Yes, yes it does AND also a transformed, new life.”  He nods and his eyes return to the trail as he heads back down.

And Herman quietly listens while the new light shines on his face.

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Good Friday pondering on the trail this morning.  What can it mean?  Or, is the Spirit revealing something new that needs not to be understood, but received?

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May the Spirit reveal to you, this day, Good Friday, a life that has as its source the one who spoke it into existence, journeyed to the cross, died… and…

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