29 March I venture out the motel door unsure if “the sight of desolation”, or “the evidences of prosperity” will greet me. I move into the sunlight feeling something great, maybe powerful, is about to happen: maybe Christ coming down in the clouds, only today there are no clouds in the physical sky, only blue heaven raining down. Perhaps the Biblical clouds exist only in the minds of men and veiling us from the Sun. We live in a world of metaphors that beg us to search for meaning.
The trees lining the property seem to celebrate the cleaner air, oblivious of any virus. But to be fair, it is the beginning of Spring when joy transcends shadows and storms bring promises of fertile days ahead? The air is still for now, yet swells with swirling anticipation. It is raining down heaven
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