The Edge of the World

winter

In my own little world I become numb

The small of my back resting in a small little chair

In my small little house on a small little street

In a small little town

Where the green grass grows all around, all around…

The days go by one by one like a blur and I forget to open my eyes

Perspective is a thing gained in increments, easily ignored, or swallowed forcibly

We can either look straight at the moments that define us

Or recover with as much grace possible when life hits hard

I hope to choose the former

mount

So here I am on the edge of the world realizing that there is a vastness so much greater than me

Adventure so much grander than I have imagined

A people gripped by more need than I have acknowledged

There are tears I have not shed in prayer

Hands I’ve refused to hold for fear of soiling my own

Eyes I have not looked deeply into

Thirsts not quenched by the reaching of my own hand

Somehow here, my mundane seems to lack meaning

To make an impact above the ordinary

To excel in the midst of the mediocre

To fulfill, suddenly becomes the only source of fulfillment

I am made full by the pouring out of all I am on the altar

The emptying of self in reasonable service to the Most High

Deep calling deep within my soul

Revealing to me that I only live when I stop living only for me

Here on the edge of the world, I find a new beginning.