My Friend

 I walked with you along the hillside in the brilliance of a November day.

I walked with you along the creek bed, where the water trickled playfully over the rocks and tiny fish darted in and out of the shallows.

My foot kept time with you as I listened to a bluegrass band vault their notes to the stars, couples young and old dancing in the silvery moonlight.

I caught the gleam of your eye in between classes at college, resting with you under the shade of the trees.

I looked for your face in the rafters of a small A-frame cabin, flower petals strewn on the floor and promises etched into the walls.

I felt you in the hearty holding of a hand.

I laughed softly to myself as I traced your footsteps in the lines of St. Augustine. (Magic!)

I heard you at work in the laughter of a toddler who forgot his reason for sorrowing.

I saw you in the face of a woman who had once thought all hope for her son was lost.

I glanced at your hands as they were working the potter's wheel, fashioning a vessel of use from the mud and clay.

I sensed you in the hug of a brother.

I have seen you silent and profound in the tension of what I know and don't, in the gladness of unseen things, in the guidance of the Spirit along an ancient path.

I will continue to chase you down with my pen and with my brush, and perhaps even with my crochet hook. 

I have rocked with you on a porch in the haze of an evening. 

You and I have traveled long together, and yet in these recent days I seem to be knowing you in ways deeper and warmer than I ever have before. 

Who are you, and from where have you come?

You are Joy, and you are of my God.

Let us keep walking together, until we cross over the banks of the river, for I am bound for your Birthplace.