Suzanna,

 

                      The very best I can hope for you is that you never fail to see the face of God at

                      every turn. As you pass the trumpet vines and honeysuckle that cling to the

                      neighbors fencepost, don’t fail to see Him there. As you ride the train and look out

                      to the ramshackled houses that line the tracks, and wonder to yourself how people

                      can live in such places, see Him there as well. And as you’re held aloft on the

                      shoulders of your peers, having made the goal that sealed the outcome of victory,

                      see Him there, too.

                      Hear His tender voice in the whining cry of your child when she doesn’t get her

                      way with things. He is reminding you of your own stomping feet and stubborn will.

                      Hear the beauty of His voice in the lofty notes of the tenor, as he sings ‘Nessun

                      Dorma.’ It is the voice of God that will gently lift you up and off the ground in each

                      soaring and climactic note.

                      You’ll hear Him in the song of the finch and the sparrow, as Earth turns into

                      a new day. He created the sparrows song, and He is calling you to rise up and

                      make good today what might have fallen short yesterday.

                      You and I were meant to walk through the mist, in the garden, tending to the

                      beautiful Earth, conversing with Him at His side. The fig tree withered as

                      we wandered away, but we should not fail to hear Him, still calling our name

                      as He waits for us on the broken path that now meanders through thorns and

                      imperfections. Feel the pain of your own betrayals and the broken-heartedness

                      you’ll surely know, but do not gaze too long at your own condition.

                      Look outward, to those poorer than you, to the blind and to the weary. Reach

                      out your hand to feed and lift up. You’ll soon discover you’ve forgotten yourself,

                      and the chains of your own sorrows will fall away. You’ll become free for having

                      fed the One whose voice you hear, for having lifted up the One whose face

                      you see. And at every turn, it will be Him.

 

                                                                                                                             Dad

 

 

                           epilogue to the forthcoming book titled

                            'Lamentations(of a 20th century man)'

                             that one hopes will see publication

                                    sometime this century