If I get my druthers, we’ll sit here and drink coffee all day instead of being out in that bitter wind.”
–Duane Boehm (Shooting Star)
“Oooooo — oooooo,” What do yuh mean, what’s that? That’s the sound of the wind howlin’ through the tops of the tall pines. Don’t yuh recall the words from that ol’ sage, Bob Nolan? “Ooooo–oooo, listen to the wind, wonder what he’s sayin’, oooooooooo”
Yuh thought I smashed my toe. Pard! That’s the wind. This is March, the month of the wind; it comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. The wind comes and goes, and my oh my, I’ve been in some winds in my lifetime. Yuh know, my hometown of Boulder was known for its wind that rushes down through the canyons.
When I hear the wind or feel it against my skin, when I have to hold on to my hat so it don’t blow over God’s creation, well, Pard, I’m reminded of that verse in Acts. There was the sound of a rushin’, mighty wind. It was a violent wind, an’ I’m sure those in the upper room were a mite concerned when they heard it. The wind can come in and destroy, but this wind was the Holy Spirit, and yes, Pard, in one way it blows through our soul to destroy the evil within us and then to sanctify us.
Lookee up there at the tree tops a-swayin’. Yuh can see movement, but yuh can’t see the wind. The same is true of yur soul. There is movement within as the “Wind”–the Holy Spirit blows and sweeps through cleanin’ it up, but yuh can’t actually see the Spirit. Why Pard, think of it. Way back in the beginning, the Spirit moved upon the waters. He wasn’t seen, but there was action takin’ place. Tell me, Pard, have yuh ever seen grace? But it’s real all the same, the Spirit brings the washin’ of the blood and activity is takin’ place though not seen.
Maybe yuh might take a good notion, the next time the wind comes a-blowin’ to be thinkin’ what the Spirit is doin’ in yur life. Listen, oooooo-oooooo, the wind blows out all that chaff that has accumulated in the old life. Listen, ooooooo-oooooo, there is a refreshin’ takin’ place; the smell of the old man is gone, now we have the wonderful breeze of the Holy Spirit guidin’ us through this wearisome land.
Still don’t like my singin’? Well, Pard, it’s better than listenin’ to the wind that yur a-bellowin’. Call yuh Windy Bob, or Windy Jim, or Windy whomever, it’s a wonder yuh can keep yur feet on the ground with all that hot air yur holdin’ in. No wonder yuh have to be a-spewin’ it out once in a while. But let me tell yuh straight, it ain’t the sound of a rushing, mighty wind. An’ Pard, don’t be usin’ it as an excuse for the knots on yur noggin’. Don’t blame it on the wind that yuh forgot to check yur cinch.
Vaya con Dios.