Last spring when I went outside I heard bagpipes. Living tucked away by the cemetery was new to me and as I peered over the fence, it was our first funeral. Mrs. Sargent. The bagpipes played and the family stood around each other in solidarity. The air was as crisp as the tears rolling down their cheeks.  

The cars left, but one car keeps coming back. Almost daily Mr. Sargent comes to visit his beloved. It has become the pattern of his days to visit her here, so often that there are tire tracks that lead directly to her. He has placed two little lights on top of her headstone. They glow in the dark of the early morning and late at night.  

The tracks through the grass make me wonder…what do I keep coming back to in the morning, midday, and evening?  Am I returning to my God, asking Him to protect me and lead my life? Or am I returning to worry, anxiety, and my lack of control; disappointment, failure or excuses?  

Where I choose to let my heart drive will create tracks, patterns on my soul, and as I return to those familiar places, those tracks deepen.  

If I seek the source of all truth and ask my God to give me a longing for Him, the tracks will lead to my God, to His armor of protection around my life and the ones that I love. And like the little lights on top of the stone, He will set me apart as His, illuminating my path towards truth. Protecting my days and claiming my soul as His.

Mr. Sargent is compelled by love. Love is found in it’s purest form in the eyes of our God. Let’s fight for the patterns that will lead us to Him.

HLLF,

Kirstin Ricketts

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