A couple of weeks ago I was invited to take part in a unique community: keepers of the fire. A friend connected me with his friend who had built a fire on her property on January 1. She was inviting people to come out for 48 hour turns to keep the fire burning. Along with stoking the flames and feeding the fire pit with logs, she asked us to pray.
It was a beautiful location with three cabins built in the 1800s surrounding the pit. It sat atop a hill and looked out over a beautiful Tennessee valley. It was peaceful, quiet, and cold.
While there, I wrote this meditation:
The fire is lit.
We each have a part in contributing to the fire. It didn’t start with me, it doesn’t end with me. It is useful for warmth and food. It is contained. It is powerful and can bring destruction. We draw near, worship.
Alone, but city lights on the horizon. Barking dog in the distance.
Paradoxes prove to be teachable moments. Close to You. You are always close to me. I drift.
Light, dark. Moon is bright. Clouds thin. Clear skies reveal fiery stars and make for chilly mornings. Retreating inside. Feeling safe in four walls. Roof tucks us into the evening hours. The silence and solitude felt, enveloping.
Moments for prayer and walks and songs and Word.