reason for writing

so i had just moved jack from his pack 'n play to his crib. we had his pack 'n play in the closet to shelter from the possibilty of a tornado. as a side note, since when did missouri become tornado ally? anyway, i sat back down to watch the telly and i thought to myself, "this isn't doin' it for me." so i purposed to head up to the computer and write me a blog post. now here i am.

so here is a story. a story shared and handed down for 150 years. a story about searching and finding and losing and redemption. it's a story that speaks to the many souls that linger and list like a sea roiled ship on a quest 'cross the strait of mourn.

many years ago, about a few years before 150 years ago, a newt perched on a stone in the middle of a pasture in the middle of a farm in the middle of ireland. he perched and posed a question to the breeze that danced across the slippery dew-laiden grass. "from where did you come and where are you going?" then with brevity and ease said the breeze, "i know not where from wince to there, but i know that the grass is as soft as the clouds that share the air i breathe."

now as the newt lost himself in listless thought a boy by the name of Dan stood in a puddle of mud on the road to the barn on that same irish farm. dan's eyes were affixed to the rippling circles of himself in the muddy reflection. he saw his skin of 9 years wrinkle like the brow of his dad's harvest intent and the crimson of the morn born from the passing storm wrap around his aging, muddy body. then a raindrop fell and broke the image and dan looked up and saw no clouds above him. he thought nothing more and stomped ahead splashing his way to the barn.

the breeze continued its play, waltzing its way 'cross the purple of periwinkle on green. twisting and twirling, lifting and laying it danced with careless abandon until it clumsily ran into the red sided barn that was waiting to welcome Dan. the barn creaked and it moaned as it intangled the breeze in a flurry of hay and crop seed. dan looked as he heard the embarrassing bump of the breeze and the barn. as his eyes met their gaze a tear fell to the ground as dan watched in horror as the barn's legs gave way. the breeze and the barn came crashing down with seed and hay 'round them. moments later as the breeze flurried away in embarrassment and the barn lay bruised and confused Dan heard the pained cries of his father. Dan ran to the barn. his dad lay bloodied and dazed but upon hearing Dan's voice he returned. realizing he felt whole, Dan's dad quickly bounded to his feet to meet Dan.

three days later in the afternoon heat most of the towns men hammered and sweated to return the barn to her feet. most toiled away in silence and thought about the good fortune to be working alongside Dan's father and not standing beside his descending body. and as the afternoon hardened Dan heard the trees whisper on the ridge. they swayed as they waived to let the men know that the negligent breeze had returned. but Dan saw in their smile that the breeze had returned to offer a cooling refreshment as penance.

so the next time you see the bending of trees and hear the creaking and cracking of fences, take a moment to ponder a story from yonder 'bout a newt in a field and a muddy boy named Dan and the danger of dancing with careless abandon.