"He Walks with Me, and He Talks with Me, and He Tells Me..."

And the word of the LORD was precious in those days; [there was] no open vision...I Samuel 3:1

Sounds like now, and like it has been for many years in this world, I'd say. So, when clarity of vision begins to return, how do we know we're not just dancing with lunacy? "Be my witness, not my attorney," Rick Warren reminds...so I'd answer that question as a witness...as someone coming with a story rather than a dogma.

Several years ago, when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, I went through a period of time where pain and weakness ruled my life, dictating nearly every choice I made. It was a time of profoundly sad list-making: lists of all the things I'd "likely never do again." One particularly gloomy day (another symptom of fibro is depression) as spring approached, it hit me I would surely never garden again. I began to literally weep as I considered that even if we ever moved someplace where a backyard garden was an option, I'd never have the strength to maintain that level of physical labor again. Based on my stature right then, it was a realistic expectation. But even as I cried, I "sensed" laughter around me. Giggles, like ones restrained by those who know of a fabulous suprise awaiting a dear friend, but must keep it a secret. That was what I sensed bubbling in the unseen realm nearest me.

"What are you spooks laughing about?" I finally said aloud, and a spiritual dam broke. The giggles burst into outright guffaws, all around me. It was so contagious, and I was so mystified by it, that I left off my crying and grinned through my tears. I was much like a little child drawn away from grief into a reluctant smile. I went quiet inside about gardening, about a lot of things that were on that "expected losses" list. Maybe something different was in store for me. I began to hope.

I went outside to water my garden this morning...it is in its third year of productivity; and church bells rang as I stood spraying the glittering arcs that refresh the dry ground. I was reminded that many places are holy places. My garden is one of them.

Did I expect such a wall-less sanctuary to ever be mine again? No. Was I told to expect something more, that a higher consciousness saw more for me than I saw for myself? Yes.

If it is lunacy, then sun and water and a morning wind sent to carry a sacred song are all celebrating.