Under a Honeysuckle Tree

Posted on June 3, 2008


This morning and afternoon felt like summer. It’s the most summer it’s been since I came home from Amsterdam and the air made me feel beautiful. It was low eighties and the sky was bursting with sunlight.

Later in the evening there was a thin layer of grey spread evenly across the spatial ceiling that was thin enough to still let the sun burn like a giant candle. The yellow light rushed across the streets and up blades of grass and through the trees. The air smelled like the sweet fruit of summer. Every breath smelled like I was sitting under a honeysuckle tree.

It’s days like these that remind me that I’m alive. They put the sunlight back in my veins.

What is fire? When you see fire burning inside another human being, what does that look like? Is it warmth? Is it light? Is it anger that has been transformed into a discontent and passion to see change created? Is it a need to hear the truth proclaimed from the corners? Is it the determination and mercy to be able to say I’m not willing to wait because someone needs to help these people now?

Ever since my plane’s wheels parted with the runway here in America, my whole life has changed. The amount of change verses time ratio is incredible. Months before I left for Holland I felt like my whole existence was pointing towards the trip I was going to take. I was only in Amsterdam for ten days and I feel like the trajectory of my entire life has changed.

I reached the fine point of the cliff and now I’m flying through the beautiful flood below.

I have new hope and I officially have to do something about it now.

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