The ashes are falling.

I feel like I’m walking through the aftermath of a bomb – a bomb that has ended all strife and striving. A bomb that has severed bridges or roads of return. Everything has been incinerated and gone up in flame and smoke. There is nothing left to burn but a few smoldering coals.

The ashes fall. Gently like snow on a crisp prairie winter morning. I hold out my hand and catch the grey flakes drifting down around me. They crumble to dust  when I fold my fingers into a fist. The wind unfurls my hand and carries the dust away.

I still live, I can move to walk through the rubble. But whatever that was pursuing my life has ended as well. I may have lost much.. but I’ve gained so much more.

The wind will pick up and carry these remnants away.. where they will settle in pleasant valleys and be reconstituted into life again. Do I stay or do I leave? I know that life will return, there are signs already. Look, there are buds on the tree. The trunk has been singed but she still stands, her roots are deep.

After the ashes will come rain. And after the rain, will come the sun. Come, it’s time to prepare and sow. It is time for shalom.


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