I remember the year
the great wind blew
into the gulf of our lives.

The lethargy of our love
foundered in the confines
of stereos and careers,
loitered in petty preoccupations,
rusted in loneliness and longing
for the romance
of our sapling days…
we were lost.

We scouted the local terrain
for signs of life,
chanced upon a gathering
of lovers
forming church
tilling soil planting seeds
hugging and kissing
singing and strumming
a rhythm of the heart
a rhyme beyond reason
from the deep waters
of faith and love.

Like an awaiting ark,
on black gumbo plains
the church swept up
willing and reluctant callers.
No Noah at the helm
but a cowboy booted man
who rode his cycle of love
into the hearts of his people.

This great wind
born of heaving seas
called by the hound of heaven
listened past the bonds
of his hurt and anger
penned his angst
punctured his heart
and poured himself
into the knots
of our disillusionment.

We knew he must have
forded the sacred River
and refreshed his soul
in its peaceful eddies,
for week after week
Gale force sermons
regularly unbuckled us
from the comfortable shackles
of our minds.

We are grateful
that this prickly wounded healer
for so many years
stayed attached to us
in our gritty furious passage
loving us in our flaws
and in our flowerings.

If you can visualize a storm
that is its own weatherman
you might come close to knowing
this uncommon soul
who took God and flung Him
onto our shores
in a lively Gale.

06/05/2007

Author's Note: Dedicated to Father Gale White, forever etched into our hearts. He was pastor of St. Francis Church in Lancaster, Texas from September, 1977 through May, 1983 and is now retired.

Posted on 06/05/2007
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