About three weeks ago I drove down to the beautiful state of Georgia with my darling Man, Alan. Two primary reasons we chose to travel: to listen live to the tremendously talented folk musician and songwriter, John McCutcheon, and to gather with three other couples that Alan had known for years, friends he had met in 1964 and 1970. Old, cherished friends for him, and new, delightful friends for me; Jim and Carol, Bill and Donna, and Henry and Brenda Gail. I believe we all had a wonderful weekend. I know I did.

I was thinking about how special old friends are for all of us as I took my morning prayer walk on the farm across from Our Treehouse yesterday morning. The sky was a beautiful blue with only a few wisps of white clouds to be seen. The air was nice and cool. I still needed my coat, scarf, and gloves, but no hat. And down the farm driveway we went, Reddogg and I, hearing a few birds chirping in the Tall Beings, a slight breeze moving the branches of those trees, as I recalled special memories from that weekend in Georgia. All three couples had graciously included me in their circle. And I smiled as I thought of that invisible bond they all had for each other, and the love they have for each other that has been faithful all these years. Feeling that love between them had been one of the highlights of my weekend. I have old friends also, Cathy whom I have known since grade school, and Susan since freshman year in high school. I have other friends, too, and of course the Foxy Hags, whom I have known for over twenty-five years. I was thinking what a lucky girl I am, having treasures like old friends and new friends..

Then down the road I heard the barking of a dog and I knew it was Gunner, my neighbor’s Beagle dog. And sure enough, I see him running towards us, baying loud and deep with his canine vocal cords, and moving his short, stout legs quickly down the road. Behind him I see Isaac chasing him, wearing his red baseball cap, a long sleeve shirt with shorts, and no shoes. I marveled how that eleven year young boy could run with such ease over that mud packed driveway, the soles of his feet tough and bare skinned. Reddogg and I stopped and I called Gunner’s name, hoping to deter him into slowing down so Isaac could catch him. His bark did not sound inviting. I was not quite sure he was as happy to see us as Reddogg was hoping, as evidenced by Reddogg’s tail wagging back and forth. Isaac did catch up, pouncing on Gunner and grabbing up the dog collar with one hand, and waving at me with the other.

“Hi, Joan!”

“Good morning, Isaac! Boy, what a great runner you are!”

“Thanks! See you later,” he called back to me, and still clutching Gunner’s collar they both turned and trotted back towards home.

I turned also, planning to head back to my own house, but Reddogg resisted, standing in his four pawed tracks and pulling on his leash, watching Isaac and Gunner retreat. So my gaze followed his and I am so glad it did. Another small figure was running towards me, had come out the front door of the farm house and across the front yard. I recognized Silas, the younger brother of Isaac, and watched as he ran the length of a football field towards me. His three year young legs were pumping up and down like pistons in a small engine. He continued to barrel towards me, dressed in a long sleeve shirt and long pants which were tucked in gray rubber boots. He never wavered, never grew tired. I saw that young boy race to me and my eyes grew damp with tears. “Now I know I ‘m just about the luckiest woman on the planet,” I thought to myself.

A long lost quote came to my mind, one I had not thought of in a few years. I had heard it a few years back in one of the services of my spiritual center, the topic being that happiness is found inside each of us. A quote that proclaimed, “JOY is running down the street to greet you.” I had found that image quite delightful and had often visualized JOY as a companion, an energy that I could feel as I walked down my own country road. But today, in the human form of a little boy, JOY was truly rushing to meet me.

Silas ran right up to me with a sudden stop, sidling up close to my legs, but he did not touch me.

“Can I give you a hug, Silas?” I whispered. With one simple nod of his head he said yes. After I hugged him up real tight Reddogg immediately came over and touched Silas’s hand with his nose.

“I think Reddogg wants to say hi to you,” I told Silas. Silas grinned a big grin, then reached out and stroked Reddogg’s broad forehead, his small hand so gentle and kind. He looked up at me then, with his beautiful brown eyes, and I gently touched his soft, brown hair.

“I don’t have any treats for Reddogg, Joan.”

“That’s alright. Lord, son, Reddogg gets plenty of food twice a day. Let’s walk you back home.”

We did walk back, and two of Silas’s sisters, Evie and Millie came outside, so I got to give and receive more hugs. So lucky!

On the way back home I thought about Alan and his old friends. The obvious joy they found in one another in the time spent together. I am sure if they had allowed the three year young child in each of them, they would have run to one another, too. JOY propelling them forward, never wavering.

I have known for a few decades that I come from JOY. I have often told myself I am Joan from JOY. I mean, all you have to do is look into the eyes of a newborn baby. It’s all the proof I need, yet sometimes I forget this. But on this particular day I once again was reminded by a friend, a three year young boy named Silas, his legs like pistons in a small engine, fueled by JOY.

c   Love, Joan