When the essence of nighttime pours in and wraps itself slowley and firmly around us, when the last small piece of sunshine pulls up and vaporizes into the atmosphere, and the sky slips quietly into its slumber, the birds have calmed, their calls have stopped, and the heaviness of the covers of darkness play over us, and weight our bodies into sleep.
The church is peaceful in its slumber. It's wooden floors that creak and moan when walked upon, and echo steps of hard soled shoes, worn on Sunday morning, the walls that reverberate the sounds of piano music being played by hands of old, with missed notes and hammered keys, and voices rock the morning yet to come, in passive feelings of all working from the same number, all looking at the broken notes slipping from the page.
The narthex is empty, the doors are open to the great sanctuary with twenty pews, resting, breathing, curling the wood ever so slightly, with the pulpit standing there waiting, waiting to be filled once again, so obvious in its plain design, so welcoming in its manner.
Above it all, outside this vestige of hope and fear, gladness and solemnity, death and life forever given, is the trueness of God, the awesome sky that is but the hem of His robe, decorated with more than a million stars, laying over all of us to comfort in His presence.
Ralph Peck
Photography By Chris Hall
Blaine County Oklahoma
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