I will remove my shoes, walk in bare feet, upon your hallowed ground. Wherever I stand it is thus, for you are with me, in me, upon me.
The mason knows where to set the foundation stone. The potter knows where to pinch. The cobbler, to build a last.
I used to give only dry crumbs when asked, I had nothing else to bestow. You have given me balm and nourishment to offer in friendship.
Standing in bare feet.
I have dug a hole and into it put dead ambitions and yesterday’s opportunities. This morning I stand beside it, holding your hand, Lord, with no regret nor remorse at these losses.
Shall I now cover over the grave of yesterday and walk on new ground? Can I bear for my old self to disappear?
What moved me before now moves me not. What miracle is this?
I’ll walk on.
As I pick my way through a gravelly track, an onlooker may marvel that my ankle does not turn, that the way is so rough yet my gait so smooth.
Let these fellows wonder more and more at the light you shine upon this path, Lord. They may walk in it too. Your way is open to all.
What was hidden you made visible to me, Lord. Let me share this vision and draw the curious.
A wooded Alpine track, overhung with trees. Forest creatures and bark my close companions. Round the bend, trees part, the valley vista stops my breath. Who knew distance and height could hold such beauty?
Morning, dawn, leaving my dwelling. The forest view from my stoop is narrow and close. The dew on an intricate spider’s web stops my breath. Who knew intimacy and detail could hold such beauty?
Wherever my feet land, Lord, let me be overtaken by joyful beauty.
This rutted path. Later, I know, will come a fork. I worry over the looming choice: left, or right? The future hangs in the balance.
Walking, now, numb and and in waking sleep. Familiar ground. Why do I wait to choose? Have I no options now? Do I dare awaken, place a foot differently, look with new interest at a well-known hedge?
Yea, in my rooms, even whether to sit or stand is a bracing freedom. Guide me now, Lord, and then now again.
In an open meadow, I set off in one direction. They trust me and follow.
I listen for guidance, will you sing me into the right way?
I follow your voice.
So many tracks through these woods, used by so many creatures. The one I walk, I do little more than borrow it. I am here, then gone from this earth.
What will be left after I am dust? Not even my footprints.
My trace will be seen in the memories and stories of the descendents of those I have greeted as I walk these woods.
So let me smile at this fellow who now approaches.
I live by habit, walking the same ways through each day.
There is no path from one moment to the next. Each direction leads to each. The day is cascading possibility.
I think I march upon the trail, but I am in flight, a dragonfly, fearsome and free and small and nimble.
Lord, buoy me with warm wind underwing. Each choice is new freedom. Let me choose and choose again.
The river, the lake are things of beauty. Yet of what use is a view?
If I am a river, let me flow over dry lands, let me slake the thirst of parched fellows.
I have a sturdy back. Let me carry burdens for the weary.
You have made even the gray days that are between sun and rain. Neither miracle nor calamity presents.
Worlds unfold the closer I look. Treasure in the back corners of my rooms, coins in the cushions.
Gray is the color of small treasure.
Lord, let me see the truth of joy even in the neutral and the dull.
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