The Deception

The furious wind rushes against me, and everything that dares to block it’s path.

  I sit on the swing and attempt to pull myself higher upward. Gazing into the distance I watch the Arizona smoke settle onto the rugged mesa in the New Mexico plains.

 

I say a prayer for all of those really living this nightmare; the wildfire out of control just over our border; for those left to stand back and watch certain disaster rage in bright roaring flames over their homes; it’s black, unbearable smoke engulfing their surroundings like an evil vapor.

 

My muscles are straining, against the steady wind, as I try to pull myself up into the sky, now an ugly grey. I wince- the smell of smoke plunging itself throughout my senses, the dust flies, the winds rage, and the warmth of the day seems, somehow, out of place… Looking into the darkened sky, I think of how much the grey clouds look simply as if they might pour forth rain… Only this grey darkness is not full of moisture but dry, elusive poison, and the winds, only feeding the fire that I have not yet seen.

 

 

Skidding myself to a stop, my feet set a large billow of sand free for the wind to feed on. Something catches my eye. I think it’s the moon! It is a bright, florescent pink, yet hazy, hiding slyly behind the ever looming wisps of smoke. Or is what I see, the sun? I cannot tell…

  I come around the other side of my swing, to face a different direction. Pushing myself to a start, I begin to pull myself higher and higher, my position providing me with less friction than before; I fly to the sky. I see it is now sooty grey, and the pink circle of light has vanished; just swallowed up and gone. The wind picks up and the noise, a furious rushing and an ever relentless pull, this way and that, seems to be crushing my ears.

 I feel we are surrounded; the darkness slinking, the wind, pulling, the smell of smoke, strong and deceptive. When shall it all end?

Halting my swing, I stand up, and  bear my face towards the wind.

May God bring about His will in all of this, come what may, and I pray we turn our faces back to Him, as he purges us of evil to bring His love to a dry and desperate land.

“If only my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face, and turns from their wicked ways. Then I will hear from heaven, and forgive their sins, and heal their land.”         2 Chronicles 7:14