Eugenie

The air was charged with the promise of something, what I don't know; and also a sigh of something sorrowful,sad , perhaps the rain is merely the collective tears of the people in this tiny place.
Whatever the truth was, it was bothering me right now. I dressed in my trenchcoat, it was not enough but I didn't care.
After making sure I had left nothing on to start a fire, (I always worry about things like that)I locked up and headed toward the edge of the village where the tall grasses are home to several families of tiny quail and a strange sort of bird that makes a shrieking noise at night. What can they be and why do they do that? I always wonder and I always fail to look them up on Google to quench the hunger I have to know.
At the corner of the last street before the pavement retreats and a bike path and dirt road take over I stop and ponder what to do. Go on the way I usually do and end up at a miniscule Starbucks, comfortable and a good place to sit and sip and read-I always order Earl Grey tea,or turn left and wander down the dirt path.
I stand so long at the corner I begin to be aware of others looking at me. I want to do something, think something, but I don't know what.
It is one of those strange days when fatigue, hormones or something I ate conspire to cause a complete deadness inside, a creeping wave of fear and overwhelming anxiety.
Life suddenly makes no sense. I mean here we are on a ball stuck in space, hanging on.........nothing. And we just sort of go round and round and round .
And we spin our wheels and we go this and that and buy this and that and one day it is over.
And I feel a little lost and small and alone.
Then I remember a certain sunny day when I was very small and was in a church basement and about to leave a room.
There on the wall was a cartoon picture of the Lord Jesus and he was riding a young donkey. People were shouting 'Hosannah in the highest.'
His eyes, even though they were just etched in black ink, even then they were so gentle and good and kind. And at that moment as a child, when I fixed my own eyes on those I felt instantly at peace.
And just then, standing there on the corner I thought of Him, and all the things he has seen me through, all the fears, and worries, all theillnesses and lonliness.
And I lifted my head and I was not thinking of me anymore. I still felt a little lost but I knew I could run into his arms and be safe and things didn't have to always make sense to my brain.
He and the Father and the Holy Spirit are the Master builder. That is all I need to know.

When I came back from that walk, cheeks pink from the mournful wind, the soft spray of rain upon my skin, I was quiet and thoughtful; perhaps some of the feelings still nagged at mymind but I was alright with that.
"He's got the whole world in HIs hand" I thought and it somehow made me smile.