Day Two of my Arizona trip. Resting and writing and walking. What more could I want?
The entire day was glorious. The warmth, the mountains, the walks, the peaceful air of the town. Some of the cacti are blooming, and I got a fabulous picture of a prickly pear cactus covered in pink flowers. When the fruit matures, the globes are used in jellies and margaritas. I tried picking one once when I lived here years ago and quickly and painfully pulled my fingers away covered in almost invisible hair-like spines. Lesson learned. Use gloves next time.
I was able to get quite a bit of writing done, pulling out stories I’d written, some from years ago, from my saved files and re-reading them helped remind me again of just how faithful God is and how far I’ve come. That was the encouraging part, but I have so far still to go. And that’s ok, because I’m not alone.
The Bible, as we know, is full of stories. Happy stories and tragic stories, but each one with a lesson for us to learn. Even Jesus told stories, although we call them parables. The story of the Lost Sheep giving us hope that Jesus will find us no matter where we wander off to, and that he loves us even when we’ve messed up.
And the Good Samaritan, spotlighting God’s love for all, no matter your race or color or religion. We are to show compassion, no matter who needs it.
And then the story of the Prodigal Son. What a beautiful picture of God, our Father, standing out in the road watching, watching, watching, until his long-lost child returns home, and then throwing a huge party. How did the prodigal’s father know he was coming home? I don’t think he did. I picture him every day walking to the road, and as the months and years passed, walking more slowly, but still standing vigil until the day when his prayers were answered, and his child came back to him. Now that is a glorious picture of hope and steadfastness.
I’ve often said that God has made our bodies so frail. Why did he do that? We can’t re-grow severed limbs or live without hearts or livers. We get cut and we bleed. We get infections and cancers and even with such huge strides in the medical field, we still wither and die. Our bodies betray us, and our minds forget those around us.
We depend on him for our very breath. With each beat of our heart we know to whom we belong.
In Arizona I’ve been able to truly experience that ‘knowing’ in a way I’ve not had anywhere else. That’s why this place holds my heart so tightly in its grip. I feel closer here to the one I love, and I don’t want to leave. Ah, well. We shall see what God has up his sleeve.
If someone were to ask me, “so, what did you do all day?” I’d reply, “walking, writing, resting.”
Did I mention it was glorious?
The acacia tree outside my rental condo is full of fuzzy fragrant yellow balls that smell like honey perfuming the air.