Forty years of circles.
Forty years of wondering.
But then I realized, each step is a step, And maybe there’s growth in that.
So then I concluded that the wilderness must be lonely spaces—
The woman and her well,
The blind man and his gate, Martha and her kitchen, Peter and his fire.
But then you showed up in each of those places, To each of those faces.
So now I wonder—
What if the wilderness is the birthplace of creation?
What if the wilderness is where call begins?
What if the wilderness is where joy is birthed?
What if, between the dirt and the sky
And that wide orange horizon,
The wilderness is where we find you?