May One Day

The other day was a warm one unlike any I have seen since I first arrived years ago in October. Naturally I rode my bike out of the city before my traditional trip to Toledo and soon found myself on the side of the road, watching a construction crew work on a skeleton of a building.

As a child I was never much taken by Tonka Trucks or other facsimiles of heavy machinery, but now I rubberneck at cement mixers like normal people do flipped semis.

A dear friend once told me that she saw in me the gift of dreaming, to see things not as they are but rather as they could be. We were speaking of my youth group in Colorado at the time, and of all the wonderful things I expect of them and how I can't wait to see it.

And so I marvel at pylons and concrete that may one day be apartments full of families and furnishings and will be home to many.

And so many prayers rise that my father's good heart may one day know God's.

And so even a (seemingly) God forsaken relationship was worth waiting on, as it might one day have been a thing of beauty.

And so beauty may one day be in my heart.

And so my heart may one day be as warm as Friday.

Right now it is hard to hope, to dream of what could be. But maybe one day.