Wings of the heron
Every morning after my rosary prayers with my mom, Chessie and I take a "gratitude walk" to the pond. It is a way to start my day, thanking the Lord for what he has blessed me with. As I did my typical loop around the pond, noticing another blanket of light the sun had laid upon the waters, noticing the dew that was quenching the awakening blades of grass... I stopped to thank God for another day. As I looked out across the still waters, I noticed a Blue Heron standing in silence. He noticed Chessie and soon took off in flight. As he lifted into the sunrise, I watched as ripples across the pond followed his flight across the water. His slow beating wings never touched the water, however, the wind from the wings touched the surface of the waters ... creating ripples that spread across the silver liquid.
As I walked slowly home, the sound of my mud boots hitting against my calves created a rhythmic drumbeat ... I continued to listen to the marching of my boots as my mind wandered to Tully ... a soldier ... a soldier who yesterday had to say goodbye to his family. With packed-up bags and an American flag on his sleeve, he stepped into his boots for a 9-month mission he has been trained to do. As I thought of Tully, I thought of the Heron ... I thought of my morning prayers. Our prayers are like the wind from the Heron's wings ... whispers that do not touch the water physically. We do not touch or talk with the person we are praying for ... but those prayers ... those whispers of wind ... will reach them... like ripples on the water's surface ... they will be there ... spreading across the silver liquid ... spreading across miles of oceans and into the sands of Afghanistan.
On my gratitude walk this morning, I am grateful for my nephew ... for all our American soldiers ... and I will continue to whisper my prayers ...