My dad always told me, growing up, that you don't have to go to church to talk to God. As I have gotten older, I couldn't agree with him more. As I finally stopped to take a breather, I just had to look up at the sky and take in all the glory and beauty of the evening. To the south, the sky was clear, blue, and bright; to the north, dark and ominous. I could see the rays of sun streaming through streaks of rain. To the east, peeking through a large, black thunderhead, was a tiny sliver of a rainbow. And to the west was the sun. Burning with all his might, still providing heat and light to the world around me. Suddenly I felt incredibly small. It was at this moment, leaned up against a hay bale, that I closed my eyes and thanked God for all of these things he has blessed me with. It is so easy to get caught up in life and take it for granted; so easy to forget to stop and be grateful for being able to live. Confessing my sins, out there in the middle of that hay field, was more of a confessional than I have ever done in any church in my entire life.
And you know what? For the first time in a long time, I am calm. My heart is full and my body is tired. My head is pounding; not with anger or frustration, but from the blood that was finally able to pump all the way to the top of my brain. And it feels so good! I am hot, sweaty, and smell like a teenage boy's gym bag. But instead of just being mentally drained, I know that as soon as my head hits the pillow tonight, I will sleep like a milk-drunk baby. It is amazing how much a dirt- road confession can change your tune. I would like to think that when the alarm clock screams at me tomorrow morning at 0:dark:30, that I will be able to resist the urge to call it foul names and hit the snooze button at least eight times; but baby steps have to start sometime.
Until next time, I hope you all have a great night.