The hot sun beats down on the solitary old man as he slowly plows his field.
He lifts a gnarled and weathered hand to his tired gray eyes as a protective shield.
Up ahead in the distance he catches a glimpse of the resting tree.
With its leaf filled branches beckoning, he yearns for a place he longs to be.
But he is on a journey, a path that has a beginning , a middle and ultimately and end.
There are no shortcuts to finding the truth, it isn't carried freely upon the wind.
He knows you have to listen to your heart, trusting God to lead you in his way.
Often times this requires struggling with your own crosses, each and every day.
Recalling the times in his life that were filled with joy, and others with sorrow and pain.
Old memories which evoked feelings there were often too complicated to explain.
With each step he is drawing closer, his anticipation he struggles to contain.
The regrets and fears he thought he'd face no longer can remain.
At long last he has arrived, tears of joy glide down his face softly falling to the ground.
He whispers thanks to God above, his gruff and raspy voice are the only sound.
Slowly he sits down, closes his eyes and leans back against the rough bark of the tree.
Taking a deep breath, he sighs contently at last knowing what it truly means to be free.
The leaves softly rustle as a gentle breeze causes them to sway.
The old man smiles peacefully as he knows he's finally come home to stay.
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