Waitin’ for the Wind

I can’t make nobody do nothin’. And that’s the truth. I done learned ‘long time ago, there ain’t nothin’ but that Wind to hold onto, so better hold on tight. You can feel the air a movin’ whenever you step out into the swirlin’. But you better move with the Wind when it calls, ’cause there ain’t no livin’ lest you live in the Wind.

Now, some folks say the storms of life just make you stand up straighter. And others say you gotta have a little rain now and again. Got alot of sadness in this here world. Lot of sadness. You gonna have plenty ‘fore the day is done- that’s what I hear ’em say.

I could just sit and wait for the world to settle down a bit ‘fore I jump off that merry-go-round. But it ain’t happenin’. No, sirree, it ain’t ever gonna happen. That ain’t the way the world works. That ain’t the way the Father works.

No, you gotta listen. Listen to that Wind. It’s a sweet little voice, hard to hear when you ain’t got your ears picked up ready for it. It ain’t like some porky comin’ down the road and squeelin’ cause the butcher after her. That ol’ Wind is somethin’ to get caught up in.

When you let that ol’ Wind take the wheel, the storms of life just roll off the windshield like a summer drizzle. No matter what you’re a facin’. I know what I’m a talkin’ about. I’m a facing it right now. I ain’t got two nickels and two dimes to put away for a rainy day. Just a pretty silver dollar I am a givin’ to the Lord, trustin’ He’ll use my little talent. I’m a nobody on a freight train bound for nowhere without my Jesus.

I’m a waiting for His spirit- His wind- to come gather me up in His arms. He’ll take me away from this here thunderstorm, deposit’n me right where I need to be. That’s what The word says. And you can count on that Word.

But I’m a warnin’ you. You don’t go after no tales of fortune and fame. No, sir. Only one way outta the hurtin’. One way to Jesus. And He’ll set you free. Free to fly like you never flown before, ridin’ on the back of that whisperin’ Wind. And one day you’ll look back and you won’t right know what to make of it all- just all  such a beautiful sight- all them days, you felt like Lazarus, and finally you come forth. And then, there ain’t no goin’ back.


About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, and entrepreneur, living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley; store-made soda bread has the consistency of a sea sponge; and Kerrygold butter has finally found a permanent place on the grocery shelves everywhere. His blogs are an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of his posts from thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, talesinastrangerstrangerland@wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple@wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
This entry was posted in Christianity, Life and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Waitin’ for the Wind

  1. Thanks. It was one of those great sessions when The Wind just writes for you- if you know what I’m a talkin’ about. Less than 15 minutes. 🙂

  2. Thanks for liking “Tails from Paris”.

    If you want to sharpen your international sense of humor, we do also have a French version called “Sous nos Couettes” : http://sousnoscouettes.com/.

    Best from Paris, France 😉

    Alix, Roxane & their bald, bold & funny (at least he pretends to …) Dad

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s