Grace in the Journey

Ernie dodged another falling coconut, hopping this time high into the air. He hoped to catch a hold of a large banana tree leaf that was hanging limp on a fallen tree. The wind was intense and carried coconuts, sand, razor sharp banana stalks and great peril for any small tree frog who found himself out on this stormy day. Moments earlier the skies were blue but suddenly a tropical storm bellowed. Now crimson dusk was as black as night.

Ernie raced as fast as he could to the top of the fallen tree. Jumping as far as his little legs would throw him, he was caught by the wind and carried several hundred feet. With a hollow thud, his body hit a tree trunk. His wet, bruised body clung to the sickly tree. It was thin and shook easily. Only ten small leaves hung limply at the top. Such a pitiful tree offered Ernie little protection, but his small green body hurt to much to try to jump again. He clung to the tree with his last ounces of courage and looking to the starless sky cried out to his creator.

"Why!?"

The one word was all he could say for the tree was violently tossed. Back and back still until he was sure the leaves could touch the mud. Then in another gust the wind would send the tree headlong so far that Ernie almost couldn't hold onto the tree. Then... Snap.

Warmth covered Ernie's sore body. His eyes opened to a stream of light filtering through tattered leaves. When he looked at his surroundings, he saw a mountainous wall and on his other side a tremendous white house. Then coming toward him were some small children with laughing faces. Looking back at the tree he clung to, he saw why.

Suffering

Deep calls to deep. I feel trapped in the foam by my fluffy gentle experiences. Cut me quick. So oft' the self same self-not comes to me. Let me suffer, not to feel pain, but to be baptized into the death of Mankind. A death I haven't known, knowing only your life - a death you conquered. It is wrong. Wrong for any living person to experience only life while there are dead men walking around. To touch these men is to touch death - to die. Let me truly know I'm alive - feeling the pangs of death. What hard words this self-not is.