my Christian prose

The wrought-iron gate swung open, Father and I walk along the path up to the Rectory. A blue wren sings a sibilant note in the branches above. A book of homilies in my hand as My Father Jesus reads to me a verse. I read His love for me in every chapter of my Holy book. As I read to Him His living Word in the verses of my Bible, my Father reads me. I read His love for me in every chapter of my life. His gaze is loving and His countenance looks upon me. His words are soft and maniloquent and He speaks to my heart like a Romantic author and poet. He writes pages to me on our walk along the path and I hear His Word as promises…. to me in a love letter in Spirit. The birds sing songs of praise as I read His love letter to me as poetry and fidelity in Spirit. A love letter in Spirit, He tells me that He delights in me and that I am a sweet rose in bloom. Like the velvety red roses in the cultivated garden and like the climbing rose on the wall of the Parsonage. By Julie Ralphs