An Epiphany of Love

Yesterday I was driving along, jamming to some old secular tunes in my car as I usually do.  I was listening to Michael Bolton’s song “Soul of my soul.”  That one always chokes me up, because I think of my children and how much I love them, what they mean to me, and how sometimes they just don’t get that at all.  Oh, yes, they know it, because I tell them constantly, but I don’t think they know it down deep in their being. 

So there I am, singing and driving, and thinking.  The open road spread before me, with a wide view of the city of Tucson stretching out before me.  The sky, blue and endless, mountains in the distance.  And the epiphany happened.  An epiphany, by the way, is when you finally GET IT.  The "IT" I was getting was that God was singing this song to me, telling me once again that He loves me. 

Now this is not anything new.  He has told me in scripture, by taking my sins on the cross, by rescuing me over and over again, mostly from myself.  Thousands of ways He has made it clear that He loves me, and I know it in my head, and occasionally in my heart, but yesterday was with something deep in my gut.

The lyrics say things like “We may be strangers, we may be worlds apart sometimes, it's hard for you to understand.” and: "Child of my heart, I love you more than you know, Soul of my Soul.”

 

It is hard to explain a sudden awareness of God to those who do not know Him, but it is just as hard to explain to those who do know Him; how He takes these odd moments in time, to talk to his children.  Sometimes it is to say nothing more than “I love you.” 

The drive home was in anticipation.  Another song, another epiphany.  Arizona Rain, by Three of Hearts.  Listening, and singing this to God, telling Him, I need to feel His love, that my heart is broken and dry as the Tucson sand.  

I am sure my neighbors think I am nuts.  They see me driving in, in tears, and figure something is wrong.  On occasions like this, some have asked me if I am all right.  My response is, “More than you will ever know.” 

Please take some time to listen to these two songs in order.  The first “Soul of my Soul by Michael Bolton.  The second “Arizona Rain” by Three of Hearts. 

May today be the day you feel God's love. 

(my apologies for any graphics that may seem out of line here.)

A little piece of land, a large part of Heaven

About 50 years ago, I woke to my Grandad whistling in the kitchen.  This did not bode well for my day, I thought.  It usually meant some major labor was about to begin.  I groaned at the thought, but rose to greet him.  He had a smile on his face big as the Colorado sky.
After breakfast and chores, he led me out behind the barn to reveal just what it was he was so happy about. There sat buckets and buckets of little elm trees, and two shovels.  I know my face showed the chagrin, however, my whining voiced it more loudly.  There must have been a hundred trees there!  (Well, maybe 20.)  And he, with all his cheerfulness, said "We are going to plant a windbreak!"  I am not sure if he knew that what a 10 year old girl wants to do on a beautiful summer day is NOT to plant trees.  The thought of how daunting the task was still is with me.  And again, I was openly whining.
He said something about the plans of the diligent leading to plenty and the plans of the hasty leading to poverty.  The man always spoke in proverbs or parables, perhaps to be sure I learned something from it.  My words were " What is that supposed to mean?", and he sighed.  He put it in simpler terms, ones I could understand, but that still didn't ease the sting of the work that was at hand.  He said " One day you will look at this row of trees and say "My Grandad and I planted those trees."  Somehow I did not believe him.

However, a couple of years ago, I went home to Colorado, and visited the old place.  There stood only  a remnant of the trees, but they still stood.  My heart was aching, thinking of what he had said, for inside me were his words.  "One day you will look at these trees and say, My Grandad and I planted those trees."  

I went back home last week for another trip and took a tour out by the old place.  There are only nine of those trees left, but they are still standing tall, a reminder of the roots the old man gave me.  And I could not help myself, but to write a little poem as to what they mean to me.  

On Overton Road 

Down a winding black-top road 

Past hills and houses and farms

There stands a line of trees

On Overton Road. 

It was fifty years ago

My Grandad said to me

One day you'll look and see

These trees grow tall and strong. 

Grandad passed in '68

Thought my heart would nearly break

And the land was sold

On Overton Road.

I grew up and moved away 

And planted myself so far away

But the trees grew strong

As the years went on 

On Overton Road.

Those trees still stand,

They are proof to me

That roots don't go away

I will never forget the man or the land,

On Overton Road. 

Trees on Overton Road property Pueblo Colorado 2013