Teenagers enthralled with broccoli, proudly comparing pineapples, and lugging enormous watermelons. It's hilarious to watch them so excited about food they wouldn't touch in the cafeteria or glance at twice in a grocery store. So why the sudden charm at a sprawling busy farmer's market?

Autonomy has something to do with it I suppose. It's really a lot of freedom we give them, to wander the market with friends and make their own choices. They check back in surprisingly often. They show off their purchases with pride, but also, I think, feel some security in knowing we're still there, still aware of where they are, still focused what they're doing.

They beg for ten minutes at playground, squealing and jumping like ten years olds, then stagger back to the bus burdened with flowers for their moms, bulging bags full of vegetables, and jaunty plastic sunglasses.

The last few days of eighth grade innocence, nudging at the edge of the chasm of high school.

a voice of one calling in the desert,

Prepare the way for the Lord,

make straight paths for him.

Mark 1: 3

A voice of comfort, a promise of end to oppression,

A voice of terror, the unimaginable power of God.

I imagine the Jews of Jesus day were well familiar with these words from Isaiah, clinging to the hope of freedom from Rome and the vindication of the coming kingdom of God. But what did they mean to the gentiles Mark is believed to be writing to here? A brief history lesson, an authentication through prophecy, a context of Jesus' place and time?

John is prepared in the desert for the ministry he leads.

He prepares in the desert the way for Jesus.

Jesus too, retreats to the desert, to prepare for the ministry that changes the world.

In the desert of life, a voice is calling, what will I do to prepare for the Lord?

I hear bullfrogs croak

I hear crickets murmur,

I hear a chorus of birds from tree to tree.

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I see a cardinal darting between the brush,

I see lacy towers of green and purple and pink,

I see the swollen swirling river rushing between steep banks.

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I feel soft warm breezes,

I feel fingers numb on handlebars,

I feel the splash of a puddle beneath my tires.

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And I touch the hand of God