When I first sought the desert, I sought solitude. Space to find God, space to breath.
There was peace in the thought of a space free from demands — an imagined interior space of sand dunes rolling into infinity, light dancing on the wind.
But now, I find the emptiness is deceptive. A thousand possibilities are nested in the sand, ready to thrive on the slightest offering of water.
All around, tough little plants emerge: sharp, and hard at first, but then flowering in fragile beauty.
Sometimes the cry to repentance is still heard, a thorn uncovered unexpectedly. But more often the rumours of hope drift on the wind, offering the freedom to live.