Words from Pep
Spirit Wind
“The wind blows where it wills, you hear the sound thereof, but cannot tell from where it came or know where it goes.” – As I turned and walked toward the sun, pondering these ancient words, the soft caress from a northeast breeze lightly washed the side of my face. Now and then a dandelion seed drifted past carried along tethered below its fragile parachute. It was a heavenly morning bathed in the smells of blossoming cherries and crab apples. A kingbird joined me and flew alongside the gravel road, landing every ten yards or so to see if I was keeping up. He considered himself my guide for quite a while until suddenly I instinctively ducked as something glided past my eyes. Turning to look, I caught sight of a small floating sphere, brown and gray, hardly the size of a dried pea. I reversed directions and zeroed in on this odd mystery. It was a spider curled upside-down and hanging unto the thinnest of filaments being played out vertically from between its legs. Tending the length of the filament she carefully regulated the height and speed of her wind born adventure. My eyes followed this ultra-thin fiber of silk upward five, ten, fifteen feet until it disappeared out of sight. A current of air met us from around a grove of trees and wafted my aeronautical friend out into the field. I jumped the ditch to keep up. Ahead grew a collection of shrubs maybe eight feet tall. For sure her journey was about end, but no! Working legs feverishly, higher and higher my tiny Earhart ascended clearing all entanglements. Clearly no amateur, no Icarus experimenting with wax and feathers, I became convinced I was watching Peter Parker completely transformed. Onward she flew, this intrepid traveler of the wind, with me riding shotgun on the ground. A hundred yards ahead stood the forest and ridge that restricted the Little Eau Pleine River into a series of rapids. Working the gossamer filament, my ballooning friend began to slow as if to study the challenge standing between it and continued freedom. She waited, bobbed up and down, floated forward, backwards. Suddenly her enthusiastic response began, legs and spinnerets were summoned to action. It was as if she was waiting, sensing pressures and direction for the perfect airstream. Sure enough, what can only be described as a genius beyond human comprehension, she was lifted up and up and up as the Spirit of the wind fanned my brave sky sailor onward into the unknown. The Spirit’s “wind blows where it wills,” Jesus said. My small friend had shown me her faith to trust the ride.
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ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
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