Rain

I walked out into the rain tonight.
Started to dart between the raindrops.

Like everyone else.

Racing for shelter
Like dodging bad news

Forgot that it was beautiful.
It’s easy to forget about beauty…especially when it’s called “storm”

Reached the door…locked.
No shelter
Just me and the rain.
I was wet
But it was clean.

Cold.

My t-shirt clinging to my skin.
Making me shiver.
Changing my temperature.

It was dark.
With flashes of light.
Beautiful.
There is beauty in the storm.

Raindrops landing…dancing

Too cliche?

God whispers in the storm.
He feels close.
Hope feels close…

You were there with me.
I could feel your heart…
All of the longing for beauty
Wonder.
Peace.
Truth.
Tonight I allowed myself to be baptized again.

I remember faith.
Songs continue as I drive away from the sanctuary.
Percussion on sheet metal.
Marriage of tire and pavement and water.
I’m still wet as I walk…

…through the door.

Truck stop Called Love

This past week I went on the journey of a lifetime. I took my eldest son Taylor on a week long road-trip back to my hometown of St. Louis. It was one of those father-son things.

Our goal was St. Louis, via D.C., Nashville, and Memphis, and stops in between. We heard great music, ate great food, saw amazing sites, and had a ton of fun.

But that wasn't the best part of the trip

The best part of the trip was the journey

Taylor and I woke in the back of my Dodge Dakota pickup on Monday morning after driving through the Virginia night. Both of us saw the lights of the truck stop at the same time and decided this was the place to say. As I lay in the back of my pick-up with Taylor I noticed the name of this truck stop.

"Love's"

Interesting, I thought...maybe that's my lesson for the road.

Let me explain...

We showered in the truck stop showers, and took to the road for an all day journey to Nashville. It was a long day filled with miles and miles of asphalt. I was reminded how often we live from destination to destination rather than the journey. It’s what we lose in an era of air flights. We have forgotten that the joy of living is not in the arriving but in the time it takes to get there and the gifts and joys we get along the way.

It’s not about getting there faster…it’s how you travel each moment.

If we flew to Nashville we wouldn’t have been able to see the fields of cows or comment on how many caverns there are in Virginia. We wouldn’t have stopped to visit D.C. or got to sleep side by side in the back of my pickup. We wouldn’t have had the talks we have had - the honest ones. I wouldn’t have experienced my son reading to me like I used to read to him.
We wouldn’t have passed through sun, rain, and snow all in the same drive.

I wouldn’t have had the time to consider the next leg of my life's journey.

I would have had the time to listen to my heart

Or to his.

Or to His.

There are miles left to go…

I never want to miss what the road has to say.

I have my own journey. I am learning to take the time to travel well...to listen to the road and those who join me in the travel.

I won’t forget to rest at the truck stops.

As long as they are the ones called love.