The Spirit in the Desert
The Great Spirit whirls and wisps through the sandy gloom of this desert. It is a peaceful breeze, not a strong wind. It grazes my cheeks and it feels cool but not cold. Comforting and not annoying. Sitting quietly in the sand, I play with a stick and I carve pictures on the ground of how I dream of life to be away from the desert.
The romance I long for to fill that empty corner in the room of my soul, the physical things I desire, the security net I want for my belongings. Images. There they are, drawn in the sand. Here I am, holding the tool that created them.
I’m parched, I’m hungry, I’m lonely.
Then comes The Great Spirit!
In a split second I feel the cool breeze on my face turn to a gust like I have never felt. Sitting in the sand, I am blown over onto my face.
As quickly as it came, it is done.
The stick I had been drawing with has been blown away and I open my closed eyes.
My drawings in the sand have blown to nothing and appear as if they were never there.
Then The Great Spirit whispers in my ear: “You are not in the desert. What you have drawn in the sand is in the desert! Let what you want stay as it is: desert. Let me lead you home!”
My drawings are desert, but His drawings are Perfect.