Old_guitarist_chicago

Their faces were blue.

     I was diagnosed with a curious condition, one so curious that all I could do was think about it.  Then my condition changed, but it didn’t go away.  And so this evening around 7:50 pm I was able to meet up with some friends whom I have not seen in some time.  They drove their motorcycles, Harleys, from the east, to here, Colorado.  LOL  They ride them to gain a feeling they enjoy, not to look a certain way.  Their day jobs do not permit Harleys.  It was so nice.  There they were, Malachiah James, Serge, and a new friend, Mark from Independence, MO.  Before I walked up to the Starbucks where we met and spoke and laughed and wrote, I prayed for a merciful time, even a blessed time.  And I feel that it was all of those things, a time which is known as a perfect time to those of us living on the Earth.  
      They were tired from hours of driving on the road.  It showed on their faces, and I remembered and loved those faces that were animated by fatigue, love, histories, loyalty and heartache.  Even so, all of their eyes beamed with Your Spirit, Lord God.  Their eyes were of those rare deep kind, the kind that Keller writes in his book, A Shepherds Look at Psalm 23, of the country people with deep faith.  The rural people whom all they had was their country and their faith.  And how much did I enjoy all of this, placed on the table before me?  How much did I relish them there, Your Spirit in them, the normalcy of it?  So much I enjoyed and relished it.  You and they were as the holiest and most effective medicine for my current condition aside from things which I cannot mention.
      All I could think of was the mercy which was available to us while sitting there.  Much of the time, when I am set to prayer, all I think of is the mercy which you give to us even though I am fully aware of my condition.  You taught me that from Jeremiah Burroughs in his little puritan book, The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment; all the way in 2007 you showed me that, and it is still ever present.
    This moment was our moment.  It was there, and we were there.  The coffee baristas were there in the background like beautiful cherubs tending to their duties.  The smell of the cinnamon in my coffee filled me with timeless, cathartic purity.  It was some cinnamon.  You know the kind?  
     Then we shook hands and gave each other hugs.  I told them to watch the traffic going up the canyon.  And they were happy.  And I walked home.   The whole thing was blue and green and light red.  The moment made me want so many things, the best things, because it was my heart.
 
 

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