We walk the same path a couple of times a week. Park the car, put on our packs, set our smart watches to track our progress, and head straight up hill. It’s the same stretch of logging road every single time, and yet not. Every once in a while we are reminded on that familiar path, that we are walking on holy ground. That we are closer to heaven than we think. That the veil between this world and the next is so thin that we are constantly rubbing shoulders with the Holy.
This particular brushing of shoulders stopped us in our tracks. Took our breaths away. Held us captive. It only lasted a few moments. Less than a minute. But for that tiny sliver of time we were reminded that we are never, not ever, alone. That as it is there, we are called to live here. That the ground upon which we stand is always meant to be holy, and that the road we walk is always, always, always, taking us home, to the place we belong. Every single one of us.
For those few brief moments it was as if we were only steps away from crossing over from this world to the next. The present moment and forever became one and the same. Which is, I think, how it actually is. Here and There? Same. Now and Then? Same.
As we are here, we are almost there.
Every moment, of every day.
Amen.
