The Waiting Logs

Moments of bright sun peeked through the overcast sky as the temperature rose to a shirt sleeve welcoming degree. The chill still permeated the house and the burnable firewood was getting low. A bounty of twelve to fourteen inch cut logs lay temptingly on the deck. They were too large to burn in the old cast iron stove. Determined to take the chill from the house, this seemingly sturdy “baby boomer” located the axe and marched toward the luring logs. Placing the first candidate in its upright position and with axe in hand and visions of my youthful agility, I slammed the axe head squarely in the middle of the waiting log. With a single blow the log split in half. The two halves met the same fate and burnable quarters were stacked neatly awaiting their flaming fate. Grabbing gleefully another log, the trusty old back began to offer some resistance. That resistance served only as fuel for this determined old log splitter possessed with a youthful self-vision as he made quarters of yet another waiting log. Suddenly, a wakeup call rang loudly to the self deluded possessor of the axe who was now stiffened in agony with a degree of numbing pain. A stumbling trot to the waiting recliner in proximity to the warming stove proved to be the welcoming platform for pain relief. As the numbness dissipated, determination revisited and this denier of self defeat marched back to the luring logs. Four more logs met their fate until once again the stiffness and pain returned to usher this splitter to reclining relief. As the pain subsided to a faint memory, this mind was taken to a place of gratitude for relief and for split logs awaiting the stove. As another day has dawned, visions of splitting more logs have come to rest on this thankful mind. As heat exudes from the faithful old stove the warmth of gratitude radiates from within this thankful heart.