Whispered Touch

The journey still incomplete. Ten minutes from landing, the plane had to return to where we boarded. The weather would not permit us to land. Perhaps it is fitting that instead of being home tomorrow, when I celebrate six decades upon this earth, I shall be in airports, planes, and a two hour drive home...if we land. I confess my shoulders fell and a few tears ran down my cheeks when the pilot informed us.

Standing in awe at the tree in front of an unexpected hotel layover, I noticed the leaves. Even more amazing the wispy white roots of the tree. Life. Signs of winter, fall, and even spring. Wispy roots reaching out to touch the sun while others are buried deep within the earth. Arrivals can be departures. Departures can be arrivals. Turn arounds can be a wide open roadway. Layovers can be a bountiful buffet of stillness and new sights. To seek the path of a life alive and open heart is not to expect all detours to vanish all obstacles to disappear. It is simply to see the colors and rhythm, and even the roots of a might oak peaking out and whisper, "All is well. All is well." And so it is. Sweet mercy it is.