When i am old...

I have come to hope that I would grow old in light provided. That my skin would loosen and toughen and read out like the farmers almanac. I pray that my bride and I will sit quietly on porch swings reading each others faces, searching for the history that we had created. I long for the times when third born generations will fill the halls and fields with laughter and hope and wrestling and love.

I have come to hope that I would grow old along side the sparrows that dwell around me. That my eyes would never forget the grace of a woman's smile or the smell of wet concrete in the summer. I pray that my bible would fall apart and that verse would flow from my mouth like honey from the comb. I long for the day when my bride and I will lie under cotton sheets on spring evenings and bring honor to the term 'heavenly love.'

I pray that when I am old and torn and a leathery mess that Father would come to me and say, "Come home young man, O sweetest son of mine. I have much so show you."

I have come to hope that when I am old...