There's Always A Church

At the end of a long, miles-to-go-before-I-sleep journey, I became slightly disoriented with the routing. Both GPS's were out and whirring. I had the huge fold-out map fully folded out, and the sheaf of detailed directions (make a left turn at the end of the 14th green bush) was by now muddied and crumpled. I shouldn't have needed more.

But I couldn't find the way to the town.

Squinting, I thought I saw the end of the 14th green bush up ahead but couldn't be certain. Then I became certain that it was not, and began to feel a little shaky. What was a girl to do? Well, I didn't know, so I asked. And then lifting up my head to the horizon, I saw the clear outline of an ancient church. It was the steeple I saw, and I thought, oh there it is; there is the town I need. There I will find sustenance, and comfort, food and shelter. And pleasant human faces who will be happy to see and to welcome me in.

You can't go very far in England without seeing the unmistakeable church steeple or tower. You almost always see them, looming large, off in the distance as you approach the town and are unceartain of your way. And more often than not, it helps to get you where you are going. It is a good, solid reality in this world of contingency and conjecture.

Often when I am uncertain of the terrain in my life, I look to the horizon to find a beacon; a guiding light such as the thousands upon thousands of churches that are out there, waiting to guide and to teach and to welcome.

Don't skim over these jewels; open up the jewel box.

See you along the way!
the SconeLady