Tuesday, March 20, 2007
As The Days Unfold
SUNDAY, MARCH 18
As the days unfold, my life follows like a blank empty tablet, being writ upon by an invisible hand. There are no set plans, and decisions come from momentary inclinations.
This morning, Erice beckoned so I returned, driving the long winding road up to the mountaintop. To build a town on this setting was a brilliant consideration. It overlooks every direction so as to dominate the region. The views are breathtaking. Pieced together with stone and mortar like a giant jig-saw puzzle, Erice has been painstakingly woven together—a mosaic tapestry of pure medieval poetry.
Often, I had the streets to myself. Oddly, even the homes lining either side of the narrow passages seemed empty. This Sunday morning, I walked slowly, going inside churches scattered about along the way. At times, it was only Jesus and myself inside. The walls held the prayers of all those before me. I threw mine in with the rest.