Into the Fire

Hot sweat trickled down the side of his suntanned skin and two day dark growth before a wrinkled red bandana wiped his face and got shoved back in a rear pocket of his black Levis. So tall he looked upside down under the hood of his black ink-colored Ford pickup standing on the bumper. His wavy long hair fell over his face and obscured his appearance. Satisfied, he jumped back and landed on the gravel of the shoulder. Muscled arms reached up and closed the hood with a firm crunch which he checked for closure abstractedly as he surveyed the fenced pastures bordering this pastoral two-lane. He walked to the driver side and reached in the window to grab his baby blue button-down long-sleeved shirt, pulled it on and left it undone. He tugged out his watch, opened it and closed it, slipping it back where it belonged as he heard the rumble of the powerful engine before the rolling hill allowed him to see the red blur. The smile came slow and easy. He crossed his arms and leaned against his truck.

Father, you love us all. I don't know how, but you do. Thank you, God. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.