It’s another one of those phrases that I just woke up having in my head: “The Church at the Edge of the World.”
And with it, I had a mental picture of a little off-the-road country church built on the precipice of a cliff with a long, deep drop-off and a stunning, enticing view beyond it.
Behind the little church, and almost as far as you could see in either direction, a split-rail fence lined the edge of that cliff, winding as it did up and downhill, in and out as the road wound on.
Then the fence stopped.
That was as far as the protection went.
Somehow, in my mind, I had a feeling that where that fence ended, someone was supposed to build another little country church on down the road that would be responsible for building a split rail fence that would extend protection from the fatal fall beguiled by the rough landscape – first in one direction of the winding road, then in the other. Then another, and another, and another ….
But there was just the one little church, and the one hand-made fence that only went so far.
I’m not sure I was fully awake when all of that came to my mind.
Maybe it was a dream.
Maybe it means something.