Finding Faith ... in a wisp of spring breeze

Durty Murphy's on Houston Street in Fort Worth, Texas.

I was sitting at a high-top table, the base of which was made out of a whiskey barrel. On the table in front of me sat a bottle of Lone Star Beer. ... And my colleague and I were deep into a long conversation that roamed from raising kids to theology to the state of the newspaper industry.

We were in Fort Worth, Texas, for a large newspaper convention, and we were catching dinner and a drink after a very long day of shaking hands and trying to create business connections.

Neither of us much of a fan of glitz and glamour, we found a perfect, aged and, yes, "divey-looking" Irish pub not far from our hotel. As we strolled into Durty Murphy's, there were maybe a dozen patrons or so; far fewer than the packed sports bars and cocktail joints that surrounded our hotel. We looked at each other, with a knowing look: "Jackpot!"

I tried my first-ever Lone Star Beer at Durty Murphy's.

We each grabbed a beer, for me my first-ever Lone Star, an American lager-style beer, and something a little heartier, darker for my colleague. We made our way back to the front of the bar, where there were fewer people and thus quieter. But, honestly, it was something else that attracted us.

At the front of the bar, there was a series of vertical windows, only about six inches wide, but running from waist level to the top the ceiling, and they were all open. ... You see, we were a couple of folks from Fargo, N.D., and Moorhead, Minn., in Texas for work, in February ... and it was 77 degrees at 9 p.m. at night. ... And there were open windows!

He and I took our beers to our high-top table by the windows, and you could hear an audible sigh from each of us as we settled in. Our shoulders sagged, and for a minute we just soaked in the moment. ... Here we were: Just a couple of northern climate boys soaking in a gorgeous evening on a night back home where we would be wearing parkas.

Thankfully, conversation comes easy between us, as we are similar in personality, and so the talking came easy. We shared stories and solved the world's problems between us. ... It was a great evening.

And then in a break in conversation, there came the sweetest, life-giving warm and humid breeze that wafted in through the open windows. ... Not a gust at all. But the kind of gentle breeze that reminds you of an early spring evening spent on your porch with a cold beer in your hand.

It was brief but glorious. ... And I'm still left with chills from the moment that took place more than half a day ago.

That breeze spoke of spring, smelled like an evening after an invigorating rain and made me feel at peace. It's been a long winter back home; actually, two long and harsh and cold winters in a row. And so to feel this spring-like breeze on an evening in February felt like the Holy Spirit had wafted into that bar and gave me a loving embrace.

Some of God's greatest gifts come in those simple moments, and I'm so very grateful to be taking that memory with me home from Texas.

And that is why today I am finding faith in a wisp of a breeze. ... Amen.