I’ll be home tonight, the echo down the line, the pause, it’s going to be fine, the hearts will unite, and peace will be found. She hangs up. The worries of the day will be set aside. Years before, western united states, The wagon people, the wanderers of old, setting off across the wild west, seeking refuge, a new life, hope, had a few run ins with those they met along the way, the food is not great either, and a bath would be wonderful. Then smoke is seen in the distance, life, it’s a building with a smoke stack, relief, the calm inside, we have made it. The Salmon sets off across the Atlantic, a six thousand mile swim, home to the seed beds, a small river inches deep in water, same as a blob of blood in your little finger seeking it’s way to your toes, nice comparison, but it has to reach the end of your big toe in order to start over again.
Solomon was recalling the calm in the temple, a large crowd had gathered, there was an evening of remembrance going on, and many had come seeking a blessing, then the Spirit filled the entire building with a perfect calm. The Preacher began his sermon, the air was crystal clear, there was hardly a breath to be heard, there was a Holy calm, the Spirit had come home. Solomon sighed, who would believe this calm in a world so worked up, but there it was, as rare as a glass of crystal clear water.
It reminded him of the calm that filled him, the night the “Spirit” arrived in his life, as he watched the dancing spectacle. From that day he knew it would work out, and it had. It led him to a calm inside, amen.