Wednesday, December 24, 2014

The Innkeeper:

Do you know what it is like to run an inn - to run a business, a family, to run anything in this world for me that matter, even your own life? It is like being lost in a forest of a million trees, and each tree is a thing to be done. Is there fresh linen on the all the beds. Did the children put on their coats before they went out? Has the letter been written, the book read? Is there money left in the bank? Today we have food in our bellies and clothes on our backs, but what can we do to make sure that we will have them tomorrow? A million trees. A million things.

Until finally we have eyes for nothing else, and whatever we see turns into a thing. The sparrow lying in the dust at your feet - just a thing to be kicked out the way, not the mystery of death. The calling of children outside your window - just a distraction, an irrelevance, not life, not the wildest mirracle of them all. That whispering in the air that comes sudden and soft from nowhere - only the wind, the wind...

      - Frederick Buechner, The Birth