Pete’s Puddle
The mist moved swiftly across the pond as two deer grazed on nearby grass. As I fumbled for my phone to capture the moment I looked up and they were gone, except for the huffing of their breathing behind some nearby trees. There I stood in awe of the beauty; the cornfields like a velvet backdrop below the horizon from which the morning sun began to peek out. I breathed into the morning chill and watched it float away towards the mist and the two mingled into one hovering for another moment above the silent pond. Witnessing the motion of the mist gave me a sense of the Holy Spirit’s motion, intentional yet unpredictable to me. Although I longed for silence I could hear the traffic from a nearby highway. No matter how far one travels we can still be effected by all of humanity. And there began a constant lull in the sounds of the traffic.
Atop the corn stalks a glint of golden hue laid like an interwoven quilt and if I squinted my eyes just right I could see the mist lifting off the tips. The chatter of the morning birds gave life to the morning scene. Then it happened the moment I walked so quickly to experience; the brilliance of the morning sun gently, slowly, made its debut above the tree line and the mystic morning lost a bit of its mysterious luster as the light shone up into the sky and the day began.
