photo-2The second and third graders in my Sunday School class gravitate toward something different each year. One year it was glitter glue. That was an awesomely messy year. Last year it was scrolls–everything had to be written down and rolled up like an ancient scroll, then hidden in the classroom to be found the following week. This year, it’s mazes that bring these kids together at the table, working, comparing notes, and congratulating each other on really difficult feats. I found a bunch of Biblical mazes online, and even Miss Jennifer and I sit side-by-side with the kids to work on them as we discuss the weekly lessons.

With mazes, the right path is never straight. You have to work counter-intuitively.  The maze takes you to the farthest places of its confines to explore the outer edges before you find your way home.

In the thick of things, you feel you’re taking two steps forward, three steps back. Having to erase is a real ego-killer. Scribbling out is even worse. But when you reach the end of the maze, or the beginning (depending on where you started), you see how each of these backward steps was necessary to avoid pitfalls and path endings, that, at the time, you didn’t know were there.

Every so often, truly just once in a while, the universal cogs click into place–into that sweet spot where everything suddenly makes sense, and all the want and the worry, the work and the fury, the passion and the reaching were not for nothing.

Today is that day.

Big things are coming, my friends.

I’ll be reading poetry at C4’s Creative Salon in about two hours from now for La Notte delle Donne, Due. Stop on out if you’re in town.

My first book, Upside Down Kingdom, is available on Amazon.