Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.                    

Toward the end of winter I came upon the Lord on a diamond, batting.

I said, “ Lord, what are you doing?” “These are your sins,” he said,

as a shadowy figure on the mound with a vicious arm pitched.

He had no instinct: swung at everything, even dirtballs. And hit 'em every time.

He had a beautiful swing, fluid, sure, and joyful.

He hit pitch after pitch, endlessly. I lost myself, watching.

“Out of the park” he said, his eye on a nasty looking knuckleball,

and swung like a dancer, gracefully unwinding. Chock!

It rose up over the fence, over the trees, released from all earthly bonds,

floating free until it disappeared, infinitely gone, still rising.

He watched it go, as if he'd never seen such a beautiful thing.

“I love this game,” he grinned, and set for another pitch.

I think he was honestly pleased with himself.



                    Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve

______________________ Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes Unfolding Light