November 12, 2012
Flat. Land unfamiliar, but strangely comforting. Looking towards the horizon an ocean of silence stands tall, still in wait for the harvest. Its stalks of green turned yellow confidently confirm the coming change. The change that is happening. Slowly, but persistently it comes like the crowing of the rooster morning and noon. It's inevitable and it happens. Lush fields yield crop and community lives on for another season. Survival of the fittest or a thriving people? You decide, but I know the answer. Brokenness drives them to the fields. From dust you are from. To dust you shall sow."...for dust you are and to dust you will return." So, take heart and thrive! Choice is borne from Love. Gratitude from sickles swung clean and through. Eucharisteo gives life for one who tills dust. Community is the blossom of dust tilling. Patience, perseverance, power in numbers unified. Mouths are filled and thankful stomachs are the result of this blossoming, hard working community. Everyone sows seed, all reap a harvest of gratitude and unity. Lush green stalks turn yellow. Good comes from the absence of green. Beauty from ashes. Beauty from dust.
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