“All ye, all ye, out and free!”

Early each morning, I get in my car and drive to work.  Some seasons that means I travel in the dark, other times my route is sunlit for the entire drive.  During my commute through the cool mornings of spring, the dark transitions to light.  Today, this overcast spring morning, in the soft deep misty hues of pre-dawn, I saw children assembled in that hazy distance.  They were there on the just-greening front lawn of a midwestern farmhouse.  It could have been for recess.  Or just play.  In their places.  As my point of view changed with the movement of my car, and with a refocused stare, they were no longer there - but they had been.  Collected in a moment that had once passed and now returned, or plays over and over, desperately and silently seeking a closure.  I don't know.  Ghosts.  Like dreams.  Like hope.  Like fear.

During this, 14th week regarding the ecumenical truth of faith.

God told me that, at the time I die, I will be happy. At the time I heard this news, I had been sad, so it naturally cheered me up.  But today I am happy, and a bit worried.