The Walk

My walk takes me down that comfortable old country lane, the gravel crunching beneath my feet. I am greeted by a multitude of tiny birds who scatter as I interrupt their choir in the hedgerow. The wild roses reach out to me offering their ornaments of ruby hips as vicissitude for their now forgotten blooms. As I pass a neighboring farm, a chattering company of geese voice their displeasure at my appearing. I swiftly give my apologies and press on toward my goal.

The lane opens onto a narrow roadway at which I must make a decision. Shall I turn to the right and follow in the familiar footsteps of my previous wanderings, or venture forth on a less amicable march to the left? I choose the latter.

My feet become a metronome as they pound out a new tempo on this smooth uninterrupted foundation. I traverse past overgrown fields and a gurgling stream as it trips and splashes merrily on its journey to the bay. A hillock rises up before me; it's trees, robed in resplendent glory, beckon me forth with their rich colors of gold, copper and scarlet. My step begins to slacken as I accept the challenge and the rhythm in my chest beats more loudly, my breathing becomes laboured. I am like the determined caterpillar who inches along before me, drawn to that unknown time and place. My ascent is joined by the momentary rustling of leaves in the ditch beside the way. Then all is silent, he has turned another way. Scattered here and there are the faces of the few remaining wildflowers untouched by the early autumn frost. Sunny yellow buttercup, lavender hued clover and others wave their goodbyes with the promise of return come spring. A dog barks in the distance and is answered only by his echo. The soft swishing of wings and honking of geese overhead remind me of the season and the awaited reprieve about to make her entrance.

As I attain the crown of the hill, I am rewarded with the sociable nickering of a grazing mare. She nods her approval at my approach and then retreats to her pleasant repast. My pulse and my gait return to that familiar meter, placing one foot in front of the other. The hearth of a nearby home conveys it's smoke in lazy drifts heavenward, like the prayers of a drowsy child. I,too, am growing tired but thankful. Only a little further now.

The air becomes still as the light begins to fade. I feel a sense of urgency as I anticipate that familiar, gentle voice I have longed to hear this day. My pace quickens yet again as I step nearer to the horizon. It is then that I see him. He is awaiting me~he bids me come. Without hesitation I reach out and take his outstretched hand. He whispers that he has been waiting for me and he leads me safely home.

"Walk in the manor worthy of the God who calls you into His own kingdom and glory." I Thess. 2:12