Just like that. In a moment, a twinkle of the eye. Has your heaven opened and your white horse appeared? We await in anticipation the coming, the deliverance from our myriad earthly entanglements, sorrows, hurts and failures.
The rocking horses are stored away, the springs silent with the riding of the little one. The loved one by this time three years ago lay resting in the ground, beholding the rider of the white horse. The knee and leg that bucked to the tune of ride a horse to town grows limp and a little more lame. Once, the legs could gallop and leap at near steed speed.
And lately we sit beneath the heavens, awaiting their opening. His coming. Not upon the fiery end of time. Simply anticipating the coming to comfort, the coming to answer, the coming to just sit beside, to break bread.
Life for most of us consists in dwelling in rickety seats, cane frayed in need of repair. The perfect plans so long ago plotted out discarded as the once loving child is prodigal, the friend once so near writing you away, saying you have revealed true colors. The people you thought you would always worship in harmony with not even caring you exist or sit in exile.
And more, much more. Too much to dwell upon. Too painful. Most of us upon our own Emmaus Roads, weary in the journey. Awaiting the stranger to come along beside and open our understanding, to explain the
scripture, to warm the heart to a burning point.
Even so,whether upon a white horse, or upon a burrow, come.
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