One Resurrection Morning

[The Rez]

I woke up one Resurrection Morning from a rough sleep in the back of my van. I'd done a gig out in Temecula the night before and, all things considered, thought I best stay put. As ol' Sol came a-streamin' thru the dirty windshield, hit my face, bringing on the wake up, I wasn't quite sure where I was at first.

Then, remembering the day in spite of myself, I found my Bible and turned the pages to where I do believe I needed to read. I dearly wanted to take Communion, but had none of the stuff. So, in a moment of brilliance, I found myself taking Air-Communion. You know, it was just the same as if I'd had a cup and bread. My face was, pretty pale anyway, so I did a good mime.

Somehow pulled myself together enough to drive into town from some breakfast. I looked and smelled the part of the Lost Hobo - w/ a credit card. After my private Resurrection Morning Service and my tall stack of flapjacks, I saw me a little sign - about 2 foot square. Said Temecula Bible Church, w/ an arrow pointing left, as I recall. A couple of short blocks and there she was. This sign out front just said "Welcome."

I went in to a very tiny wood frame building full of folks. I was embraced in a Welcome so big it made heart grow. Lost Hobo or no, I was home.

One Resurrection Morning . . .

The Rez

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It was a Beautiful Rainbow
A Beautiful Time in my Life
A Thing to Share
A Time to Care
To Be Alive

[The Rez]

That was 1981.

I felt the pull to put it into words somewhere safe from scorn.

I chose here.

Thank you for the freedom . . .

The Rez

------------------
It was a Beautiful Rainbow
A Beautiful Time in my Life
A Thing to Share
A Time to Care
To Be Alive

[LSH]

I love your turn of phrase and your sentiment Rez, Man of a Million Stories. Good stuff.

[This message has been edited by LSH (edited March 29, 2005).]

[The Rez]

A Million Stories . . .

"And I swear that it's all true. I swear by my Tattoo."

"This here Tattoo is for you.

The Rez

------------------
It was a Beautiful Rainbow
A Beautiful Time in my Life
A Thing to Share
A Time to Care
To Be Alive

[The Rez]

If I may, please . . .

I've re-written the account for Readers Digest. They plan to use it, but don't know when. Or, perhaps Guideposts, where it is under consideration.

Thy Will Be Done

One Resurrection Morning

Sunrise-Resurrection Morning:
My loved ones had all fled for their lives, unable to remain and watch me
sure-as-your-born kill myself w/ single-malt Scotch Whisky.

Ol' Sol came a-streamin', as best he could, thru the dirty windshield of my equally dirty cargo van - slapping me rudely across my face - bringing me to unwelcomed wake-up. Where was I? Bleary eyes and mind refused to focus
. . . at first.

The ribbed bare-metal cargo-van floor had deep-dug into my bones throughout what there was of the rough, short night. Where was I?

Focus began - eyes first, then mind - as I came-to. Blinding Temecula, CA hammered on my van from outside, determined to enter. Where was I? A Golf Course Parking Lot? Rainbow Golf Course and Country Club?

"Ah, yes," mumbled my first coherent inside thought, "I played music here
last night. Good you didn't drive this time, Rex."

Having dressed "cowboy" for the gig the night before (compete with Mountain Man feathered hat.) I'd been a hit with the Rainbow Golf and Country Clubbers. I'd also managed to upchuck at least a liter and a half of stale Scotch all over myself during the painful metal-ribbed-van-floor night.

But God, unbeknownst to me, had plans.

"Resurrection Day," He quietly reminded. Despite my unyielding, aching bones, I stretched cat-long to reach my Bible. The unmistakable sound of
Bible pages turning turned to the Scripture - the Life - I needed to breathe in at just that moment.

The Lord's chosen words. I read.

A strong pull urged me to take Communion. I had no cup. I had no bread. In the presence of God, I took Air-Communion (like the guy playing
pretend-guitar when he has no guitar.) Giving it my best Marcel Marceu, I received the Lord's Air-Communion, as surely as if I'd held the cup and
bread. My Private Resurrection Service was blessed.

Somehow, pulling myself together, I drove into town to find some flapjacks. I looked and smelled the part of the Lost Hobo - but with a credit card.

After paying for my tall-stack and moseying "out" the local breakfast house
"in" door (folks giving me wide berth,) I spied me a little, hand-lettered two-foot square sign (black on white.) "Temecula Bible Church," it read, with an arrow pointing left to a one-lane dirt road.

Left it was. A couple short blocks and there she stood: a small, wood-frame building, displaying a rough-hewn cross mounted on the roof.
Another familiar hand-lettered sign gracing the front walk simply beckoned, "Welcome."

Entering, I removed my Mountain Man hat and just stood, as the pews were filled with Temecula Bible Church-folk.

The TBC-folk turned to see me standing there, hat in hand. A rushing-wind of "Welcome" embraced me as the hugs of Christian Love overpowered me.

I began the day lost, as "gol-durn lost" as the man who Called the Wind Mariah. But, unlike the song, God had not "lost" me. I was found all
along. Sobriety began that morn and continues to this morn.

Lost Hobo or no, I was home.

One Resurrection Morning . . .

The Rez

PS: Thank you once again for the freedom to enter here.

[ April 09, 2005, 23:20: Message edited by: The Rez ]