Get Me There on Time

One evening in Fredericksburg, when the air was cool and the wisps of clouds hung like cotton draped between heaven and earth, a young man stood beneath the shadow of a church belltower and prayed that years from now at the end of his life he might look back and see it had been like this old church: weathered, rusted, and experienced, and maybe once in a while letting out a little chime or two to let passersby know of his joy.