Insects buzzed around me as I sat in the tall grass, drinking in the beauty of the sunset.
Beams of light spewed forth from the sun as it sank, and shot forth onto the mounting thunderheads in the north east.

The sticky heat had been oppressive all day, and the living ached for the coolness of the breeze.
Yet still the sun sank, and the sky grew more vibrant as the clouds turned from pink to purple, against the stark blue and orange hue of the sky.

A tree which had given up its will to live sat creaking in the wind, lamenting its fate, as a large crow alighted on it.

As the sun's beams continued trying to pierce the growing mountains of clouds in the north east, the thunderheads stubbornly refused to yield their bleach white color.

As I continued to watch the battle between sun and clouds, even as the sun began to retreat, a third, darker element gradually came into view.

Thin fingers of suave grey from the south began reaching in the sun's direction
as flashes of light told me the bigger story may lay behind me.

The fingers of darkness continued to reach out to cover the light, and the flashes of light to my back became faster.

The puffs of cool breeze which had been absent all day began to replace the heat, and suddenly, every insect was gone.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.

This thought enveloped me as I watched the impending storm creep across the sky.

This is going to be a big one I thought, as the clouds continued to darken and spread.

The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.

Its insistence made me pause. Why did I so often become afraid of the darkening clouds, seeming to block each light beam in its path? Even if it looks bleak, why should I not trust?

The rumble of thunder in the black sky behind me gave me a sliver of fear.

The thunder and dark clouds seem so frightening in our own lives, but what happens after each thunderstorm?

The Sun comes out.

Jesus, please do not let me forget your constant presence, even when the dark clouds build behind me.

Hanna Elizabeth

His Presence on the Prairie

Have you ever had an ache for time with the Lord?

An itch to go somewhere peaceful, completely alone, and bask in his presence?

It is a curious, driving feeling, something that can't be explained unless you've felt it.
Some go to chapels, a special place at home, in their cars.

My favorite place is on the prairie, under the stars.

The twinkling clusters of homes, nestled into the prairie swells. The endless sea of grasses, stretching for miles, rolling along uninhibited by more than a few trees planted in windbreaks.

My favorite part are the lights. Not from the cities, for we have only a few, but the ones overhead.
The red twinkle of mars,
The big dipper,
Orion's belt,
and the benevolent, cool face of the moon, illuminating the dirt roads and peaceful fields.

The trill of crickets calling to find a mate,
the rattle of cicadas doing the same,
the rustle of some ground dwelling creature passing through,
even the occasional coyote band,

The prairie is never silent.

And who can forget the wind? Always the wind.
With no trees to slow it down, nothing hinders its journey through the prairies. Sometimes fierce and wild, biting our faces, roaring through with a blizzard or a rainstorm as its companions.

Other times, rarer times, it is soft, kind, pleasing your ears with gentle rustlings as it moves through the dry grasses, caressing your skin as it swirls around you.

Although some complain that it never stops, we miss it when the grasses are still.

There has always been a touch of mystery to the wind. Gentle, Angry, Howling, Soft, the wind is never quite tame or predictable.

"The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit." John 3:8

The wind reminds me of the Holy Spirit in some ways.
Always present, softly nudging our consciences in the right direction, as we sometimes begrudgingly listen. Occasionally It overwhelms us with its power.

And sometimes, It is silent.

And when It is silent, we miss It. Our hearts seem still.

Sometimes we panic, trying everything to get It to come back, or sink into despair, thinking that we'll never hear it again.

But always, always, in the right time, It returns, a still small voice. guiding us, leading us to communion with Him.

The prairie is where I feel closest to the Lord...My own personal chapel.

I like to imagine God walking through the grasses, like He did in the Garden of Eden. Walking beside me, or simply sitting with me as I bask in His creation, His Joyous presence.

I think the prairie, is best enjoyed on a day where you can stand, face to the gentle wind, and let Him soak into your heart.

The presence of God is the most overwhelmingly beautiful thing one can ever experience. 

Seek His presence, wherever you are.

He will not disappoint.

Hanna Elizabeth