Oh how I enjoy the eating of strawberries and the concept of picnics underneath gently spreading willow trees. And sometimes in past years I’ve entertained pieces of poetry in my own imagination as I’ve opened wide my heart to those friends whom I hold dear. These times in which the mind soars on the wings of a fresh spring day and feels unreasonably exuberant at the thought of stable intimacy in the frolic of conversation with another? These are the moments which I treasure and hold up to the lamplight in my mind’s eye. Do you remember this? That night in the parking lot when you held court with those dear ones and talked for hours on the subjects that so inflamed your heart? I do, oh I do. And that is why it is not ridiculous to seek to create such environments in which these moments of near divine coherence might bloom into glorious life. I cannot lay claim to such power or intellect that I can in and of myself cause such profound utterances, for that is beyond the power of mortals, even ones as fair as we claim to be. But perhaps I recognize the fact that eternity is not at all as nebulous as it would seem to those without eyes to see. Instead in faith I look with eyes new opened to a sight that is not in my mind’s capacity to fully grasp at least not yet. See the far off shore appearing now even through the fog? See the budding trees and the mountains rising high? So yes, dear friend, let us talk of matters eternal and seek to know the face of God. And as we fill our dreams with thoughts of glory, I ask if you’d join me for a picnic by the gentle flowing stream. I have chicken sandwiches and chips and pickles and yes you don’t have to ask, also strawberries.