On Highway 41, a bit more than halfway down to Valley Home, a spring bursts out of the mountain, water flowing though PCV pipe for anyone who wishes to fill a jar. Above, on the private property (so posted), stands a statue of Jesus.
I like to think of him as the Sacred-Heart-of-Jesus-of-the-Woods.
II
I confess that I do not "know" Jesus, as I have not taken him for my personal savior, although I was christened as a baby and can be assured that "nothing can separate [me] from God's love in Christ."
III
Today, during my visit with her, my friend F choked up when telling me about the young father at J's memorial who said, "I want to be the kind of father he was."
He has given himself a tall order: J's heart was open to all, regardless of belief, background, barrier.
I miss him, and I count myself "blessed" to have known him.
No comments:
Post a Comment