And the sons of pullman portersAnd the sons of engineersRide their father's magic carpets made of steel.Mothers with their babes asleep,Are rockin' to the gentle beatAnd the rhythm of the rails is all they feel. (‘City of New Orleans’ from the album ‘Hobos Lullaby’ by Arlo Guthrie 1972)
My breath has fallen into rhythm with my footfalls, as I reach the summit, overlooking the valley.
Off in the distance, ‘truckers’ head east and west along I88..
as geese call from the farm between us.
It is 5:20am..
there is a break in the overcast skies across the 10 mile stretch of horizon I can take in to sight..
running east on ‘Mineral Springs’ road.
Sunrise.
The break in the cloud cover is taller at the suns point of appearance,
tapers gradually into vanishing, left and right.
Slowly,
as the sun rose to the center of this ‘opening’ in the sky, this ‘sclera’,
my mind envisions..
‘Gods eye’.
I am humbled by the enormity of this event…
as He looks at me.
These words comes clear in my mind-
"If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her."
Running,
my hand opens, in the gesture of dropping…
dropping all I had in judgment
on any other…of His creations.
"Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin."
Slowly,
His ‘eye’ closed, as His sun rose behind the quilt of clouds
As they came to meet the hills that rimmed the valley.
The sun is removed from my sight…
-Today
I am not the judge….of anyone.
Neither are you.
Maybe, as you pray..
say ‘My God…who is in Heaven..’
My Father…
And you too,
will be separated from the crowd,
prostitute
to stand alone between the Pharisees’..
and the Savior.
And of war and battle?
In the heat of your ‘battle’,
Have faith, that it is only part of war.
And the ‘war’ has already been won.
It is His Peace to you.
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