the little Main Street...

In those first few cold wet months, I hibernated, doing my best to heal old wounds. But, in the darkness wounds can fester. I decided to seek out the Light. I chose to explore this strange new world in which I found myself.

I followed the wooded country lane. It led me, ever so slowly, through twists and turns to an enclave of six or so shops. The whole town was a study in miniature. It looked like a winter scene from one of those glass globes filled with water and silver glitter. This, my new Main Street, reminded me of childhood, and Lincoln Logs. A bell tower, tea shop, used bookstore, bakery, hardware store, bank, and mercantile; this was my home now. Could I, the metropolitan urban man, adjust to a Laura Ingalls Wilder existence?!

God has a sense of humor. It is said that nothing makes God laugh more than our plans. I had always dreamed of being in the spotlight of the world's stage, and now God was asking me to be a background player? Impossible! Who are we when we are stripped of all our illusions? I was about to find out.

The used bookstore drew me in. The smell of old books was comforting, as I came in from the brisk Autumn weather. This is when I first met the Wise Women of the Tribe, as I affectionately came to call them. These elder women, some dressed in multi-layered flowing gypsy clothes, some dressed in iridescent faerie clothes, were busier than any dwarf in a mine. But, these Wise Women were mining books, piles and piles. Silently, lovingly they worked. I walked through the mystical maze-like rooms, searching the hidden, seemingly haunted stacks. There were mothers breast-feeding their children. Men fingering guitars. Artists sketching. Lovers of books reading. Yes, I had found a place of solace, a quiet respite from my journey.

God is compassionate. We are never given more at one time than we can bear. And when it all appears to be beyond our limit, a hug is sent our way.