So there I was, sitting on the top of a hill that over looks 2200 acres of rolling farmland cascading graciously for as far as the eye can see. I'm sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of an old but gorgeous log cabin, circa 1840. The sun is floating downward as if on a slow moving chariot drawn by horses of nobiliy and I'm listening to a full band play to an audience of 5. There are deer off in the distance grazing in the twilight and further down the mile long driveway I can make out an eagle perched on the top of a well-kept rustic barn cuddling an overfilled pond. There is an apropos breeze teasing the leaves of near by cedars and when the band finishes each song, the silence screams.
The scene becomes a water color painting as my eyes fill with grateful tears. The band begins to play an original called, "Thank you song", with an opening line of "I thank you for the things you do and all you give to me." I am unable to move my glass of wine to my lips due to my ethereal state of appreciation so I just sit there, accepting and appreciating, becoming a grander part of the present, a grander part of the love that my God choses to rain upon me, his child.
