Dinner was ready. The diners weren’t.
I wondered if I should clear out the dying cantaloupe plants
from the conservatory. Then I noticed the fire, blazing in the grill. And for
once in a long time, I pulled the chair closer to the fire, and sank into it,
doing nothing. (Mae, I know this will gladden your heart!) I just sat and
watched the fire dance.
The flames rose and fell, lurching left and right,
disappearing and reappearing and stretching trembling fingers up the chimney,
as if trying to flee. But, of course, it couldn’t. it was rooted in its source,
the fuel which it consumed.
It was beautiful.
Jesus told us to abide in him. He is our source. He is the
fuel even our errant lives can never consume, because he is endless,
everlasting, everything.
When we remain rooted in him, our source, we can dance and
stretch and lurch and lean, appear and reappear and disappear for a time. Because
of Jesus, we can be beautiful. We can give off his warmth, his light, and his
love.
Remain in me, he said. Remain in me.
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