Truly Blessed

When I left the St. John Church in the midst of one of Columbus' growing neighborhoods, my folks felt sorry for me that I was being assigned to a small town known only as a place where "they grow onions."  To be truthful I had my eyes on what I thought would have been a better appointment, but the Bishop put me down for Vidalia anyway.  As it turned out, that small town where they grew onions turned out to be one of my best assignments in my ministerial career.    

Going to the country from the city is not necessarily a bad thing even if some of my folks back then thought of it like punishment.   And now, having lived on a small farm on the edge of a town with one caution light for twelve years, I know that I have been blessed beyond measure.  I felt it all over again tonight as I stood on the front porch bathed in what was one of the most radiant and glorious sunsets in the history of sunsets.  

Had I been in the city, there would have been artificial lighting, buildings which obstruct a panoramic view, and the likelihood that I would have been too busy to see.  But, being here in the middle of nowhere, even farther from civilization than the place where they grow onions, is like living every moment inside a great majestic cathedral.   I have learned over these years on the farm that heaven's glory is only a glance away, that every sound in the air might be filled with the voice of the Holy, and that every common bush is indeed afire with God.  I am grateful for my place in the country.  I am truly blessed.