The man was tired; his eyes scratchy from the wind and grit of looking into the distance. Worse still was the dryness of his throat where he had been crying out time and time again, warnings or encouragement to others, from his manned position on the watchtower. His was a lonely post where the elements took their toll. At times he felt the desire to descend from this place of watching, into places of more comfort and less responsibility.
Now and again he’d put his foot onto the rung of the ladder leading down into a safer, more inviting, environment. It was in these moments when he’d be reminded of all those he was watching out for. Bowing his head he’d rinse his eyes with fresh water and take a good hearty drink, refreshing himself and his voice once again.
It was time to stoke the fire which kept him warm. It wasn’t enough to poke at coals for comfort; it was time to stir them into a fiery signal to be seen at a distance. His brothers and sisters needed to be encouraged he was watching with them.