Magazine article Anglican Journal

Secrets in the Corn

Magazine article Anglican Journal

Secrets in the Corn

Article excerpt

I'M HUFFING and puffing like an old plough horse by the time I reach the crest of the hill. Shucking my heavy backpack as quickly as I can, I flake out in the shade of a huge maple tree until my breathing returns to normal. The soothing sound of leaves rustling in the summer breeze above my head caresses my city-frayed nerves, and in no time at all I have revived.

After a short rest and a cold drink, I get to my feet and check out the view that prompted me to climb to the top of this hill in the first place. Adjusting my binoculars as I gaze across the lush countryside on this lovely sunny day, the incredible beauty of the land fills me with awe! In the distance I spy two stately swans gliding serenely on a small lake that's sparkling like tinsel in the sun. The tall grass and the hanging branches of weeping willows surrounding the lake are waving gently in the breeze.

Just beyond the lake I see a stand of pine trees soaring like green steeples toward the azure heavens. Puffy white clouds are strewn all over the sky like giant dandelion plumes in the wind. Turning around to the other side of the hill, I sweep my glasses over fields of ripening corn, which will soon be ready for harvesting. A stone's throw from the cornfield, I see a small frame church, gleaming in its coat of fresh white paint. Directly behind the church there is a cedar-fenced graveyard that, like a shadow in the sun, reminds me that the brightest day is followed by the dark of night. …

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