Isn’t it glorious to let your words run away with themselves and craft a tale of which even you aren’t certain of the denouement? Far too often do I do this I confess to the surprise of no one whatsoever. Once in a while – even under that proverbial blue moon – I actually have a plan and execute or at least more or less. Yet that is rare and often it is only because I’m composing as I’m driving down the roadside and alas have no time to stop and pen my lines. Thus it turns out that I allow myself the severe mercy of crafting a through line in my head before all the little lovely turns of phrase and details get put down. Then I know where I’m going and there I know where I must end. But even that is fine for the best parts are those lines that crop up like Athena full formed and sing so sweetly that their harmonies are the only ones that get commented on by those who read. Ah for the graces to be bestowed more liberally that I might more often produce some such that even I dare marvel at from whence it came. Yet can I take credit – of certain not – for I know my origin and that I’m yet created so my so-called creation can only be attributed to the greater composer who writes all tunes. Still yet that means an earthen vessel can be gazed upon and recognized as something beautiful in and of itself even if the potter is not at that time credited. True? I wonder yes I wonder and am in humble awe that once in a great while my pen scribbles something almost great. I am not worthy no not worthy I to my God proclaim. For now I sit upon this couch and lean back against the pillow and with the fevered intensity that comes with blazing dreams of glory say – fall back and sit and sigh and rest and take in the little moments of beauty that once upon a time fall upon your eyes. Slow down and realize that these moments that point to greater glory are all around us yes even now look for the cracks in this world that point to eternity and cry for dreams of glory that beg us to consider from whence they come.
Month: June 2025
Duologue
meekly i shout meekly!
and once more she lets out a sigh
how can i suppress my fire
when you keep stoking it so well
and then you dare have the nerve
to tell me to dull my songs
you’re right of course
but all i ask is a little indulgence
for the sake of art
just pretend i’m not on the other side
for on the stage you play a part
and that character is all prim and proper
well perhaps your reading of her is
but mine is that she’s been told lies too long
and so of course in this moment she’d erupt
even if it is only in her blazing eyes
so i’ll play her as i want to
and yes this conversation may have undertones
that discomfort even you
but it’s alright we’ll forget all that
when we step off the stage and celebrate opening night
and down at the pub share a drink or two
Ripened
on the madison county line
i waited
in the deep dark depths of mid july
and off to the side at the end of the little gravel road
a dilapidated and faded barn stood
and under an old oak
where a red checked picnic blanket was spread
i waited
and that old classic paperback i read
even though i’d read it far too many times
what’s once more when it brings such joy
and upon the thought of memories of black and white
there comes a crunch of tires upon the gravel
and up the road comes the little sedan
i see her dark tousled hair whip around as she parks
and then she tumbles out and over to me sheepish smiles
there are sparkles in her eyes
what now she says shall we not recommit our love
yes i say simply and in that recommit our lives
and in that moment her eyes met mine and we stood
in the profound symmetry of frozen time
and then upon the blanket we sat and i uncorked the wine
and we raised our glasses said a toast and slowly drank
to us to future glory to that truest of all stories
there off that gravel road on the madison county line
Frayed Scarf
Sunflower dreams and slowly spun tales of oak
What can I take with me as I walk through this forest
Some say whatever is in my pocket
Some say whatever is in my head
I say only that which I craft along the way
And so I whistle the tune I heard at the show last night
And add a few nonsense words which seem to fit
The trees seem not to mind
Anticipation Speaks
A warm Tuesday evening here. I have a few minutes, so supposed I would fill the time by writing a few words on my latest book! Fair warning – it wasn’t a book I loved so I think my thoughts shall be fairly brief. I think.
40. Hotel du Lac by Anita Brookner. Oddly enough, reading this book made me feel distinctly less enthused about vacationing in Switzerland, regardless of the fact that it’s set in a lakeside hotel that presumably people go to enjoy themselves. And yet. That’s part of the thrust of this book, no matter that you may be visiting a charming location – you still very much come with your own baggage, corporeal and non. And the jury is still out if this hotel and its lake and its surroundings are actually charming. The author does good work here of making this lakeside retreat moody, dreamy and even a bit musty at times. It is not meant to be a happy story about a vacation, especially when the main character – one Edith – is not exactly at this hotel of her own free will. There are factors. Of which – of course – we shall discover over the course of this one, so I shall not divulge all. I don’t think I actually liked this book because I didn’t exactly like the main character. I suppose that’s admirable of course, to be able to write a main character is both sympathetic and unlikeable, but can I say I enjoyed the experience? Even the quite competent writing and sweeps of descriptive prose did little to sway my thoughts. Instead, I found my time in this book a bit claustrophobic, even overwhelming at times. Which now gives me pause as I wonder if that is an intentional device on the part of the author or if I just felt a bit removed from the drama of it all. The character work is brilliant and by far the best part of this book is discovering all the backgrounds and little secrets of the other residents in the hotel. Fascinating stories could be written about each of the other characters – the Puseys! Monica (woman with the dog)! Mme de Bonneuil! Mr. Neville! (Wait, no. No one wants his story) and I admire the fact that the author made them all feel so real – almost more real than Edith at times. Again though…is that not intentional? I hesitate to talk too much of the main themes of this work as it is very much a look at questions regarding a woman’s place in the world and the expectations and societal pressures working upon her. While there are of certainty male characters in this book, firstly none of them are exactly stand-up. Secondly, this is not a book about men. Rather, it’s a book about women (well, English well-to-do women) and engaged in very much prodding at the fabric of society that has led them to this little hotel on the lake. My experiences lead me to hesitation to speak further. I shall at least say that I didn’t find this book a warm one, but I daresay it’s not intended to be.
Last Train from the Northern Isles
Flowers upon the table and a song upon the lips. What shall I say now when I see you looking at me? How did it come to this? Across the room our eyes slowly lock and in that meeting there is a communion deeper than words can tell. For sure there is a history there but also a future that is so richly signified by this moment in which we linger now. I wonder if you see the colours in the flowers and recognize in them the vibrancy that sings of life. I think you do for I still remember when you saw them the sparkles in your eyes. And so of course it happens that our words tangle a bit now and then as words are wont to do. Yet still at the end we pull the threads by opposite ends and tell each other exactly the signification of what we were meaning to. Do you see the candles flickering even now? I walk to the kitchen and stir the bolognese and add just a bit more salt. Almost ready I say to you and I lean around the corner and we share a smile. Here’s to the moments passing that tick on the clock that it cannot quite memorialize. So instead I sit here and write and hope to God that he holds us close even as we look to the western skies. At some points it’s true that our lights will waver and we will dance once more across the kitchen floor. When that happens please do me a favor and remind me of the truths that I so often write in prose. Here it comes and there it withers, so quick does the summertime grass grow. For once I hold my tongue and let the stanzas whirl through the violet twilight and in the moment still I hold my breath. This life I scorn as I look to the promise of what it means to be newborn and I shiver as I await my rest.
Truths and Application
I do not have an overlong time to write this morning, so instead – quick few thoughts on latest read!
39. Redemption Accomplished and Applied by John Murray. Simply staggering in its beauty. I finished this book a bare few minutes ago and so feel still a bit caught in the wonder and love and awe that I felt as I read the last few pages (namely, focusing on the glorification of the saints and subsequent life forever with our Lord Jesus Christ). To anyone who wishes to understand and meditate more on the work of God in salvation and how that is worked out in the lives of those who are his, I would heartily recommend this one. Breathtaking in scope and wondrous in its depth of thought, I found this a most profitable read these past few weeks. When is it ever a bad thing to think and ponder more on the salvation that is ours in Christ? This book is broken up into two parts, firstly – the unilateral and sovereign work of God as it bears out on our salvation and what this means. This part was a bit more academic and at times a touch dry, yet still I appreciated and it was profitable. But the second part? I would read this book again ten times just for the second half of this book. Murray writes and expounds on how salvation is worked out in the lives of those who are the redeemed and walks through a number of chapters examining the different facets of salvation (even what most would call the “ordo salutis” or order of salvation, though some of the concepts are a bit intertwined of necessity!) and how God’s redemption of us is actually seen and born out. I do not do this part justice. It is a simply marvelous study on God’s work of salvation in the lives of sinful men and women and shows most clearly how God works in us to call us from darkness to that light of immortality which will end with us looking into the face of Christ and communing with our God forever. What a delight it was to meditate on such themes as effectual calling, regeneration, faith and repentance, justification, adoption, sanctification, perseverance, union with Christ, glorification! I will of certainty read this book again. A balm and delight to my soul to consider the marvelous truths of God’s work of salvation. Some of the truths expounded are ones that I strain to wrap my mind around and truly comprehend. Yet still I delight in meditating on God’s salvation work and thrill to think that I will be forever meditating on this divine work as I worship God now and into eternity. Never will considering these truths cease to bring delight to my soul.
Love Unyielding
A glorious morning is mine. It is but a simple Sunday morning, but already I feel the grace of the Lord this day as I have enjoyed so many fine little pleasures. Woke up at a nice and leisurely hour (comparatively to my normal) and as the sun was already peeking over the horizon, decided to get out of bed and enjoy a long pre-church time of rest and meditation. Well, I say that – but I also decided that a little errand run was important. Dashed off to bakery and got a fresh loaf of sourdough for the week and then went to grocery store for a few little items for macaroni salad contribution for tomorrow’s Monday Night dinner. Back home again, and back to reading and meditating.
How sweet have been these past few minutes. A good cup of strong black coffee. Listening to the ever lovely Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy. Reading in the Word – words of lamentation and of hope as I continue reading through Lamentations and relish the joy-streaked melancholy of Chapter 3 – surely one of the most beautiful chapters of Scripture there is. And then in Luke – onwards we march as we witness the continuing ministry of Jesus as he calls all to repentance. And then what an overwhelming story of love and compassion as he teaches in the synagogue and then notices a woman afflicted with a grievous ailment. She doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t cry out to him, she doesn’t put herself forward. Jesus looks, Jesus notices, Jesus calls to her to come. She comes to him and what does he do? Jesus places his hands on her and pronounces her free from her pain and suffering, free from the chains with which she was bound by Satan. Glory glory – hallelujah and all praise to Jesus King of kings and Lord of lords who is our Sovereign who also has the hands that heals. It is almost too much to consider this Jesus who looks to us and sees us suffering and calls us to him that we might know his healing hands. See those hands marked by the scars of mercy? Look upon Jesus, the one who calls to us to come to him and be forever free from our chains. I love to ponder and meditate on such. Balm for my soul this Sunday to consider the Jesus who has saved me from all my sins and called me into communion with God.
Ripples
A lovely evening to let my fingers play across the keys and imagine I hear the music. Perhaps faintly it is there, floating in the air on the other side of the pond. Do you hear it? I wish I could. Instead I sit here at the edge of the dock and wait for the first rays of moonlight. I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad thing to hear the voice of another, especially when now all I can hear are the recriminations playing on repeat. Maybe in a few minutes she’ll walk down and join me, even if it is a bit chilly this night. And we’ll talk about the things that stir the surface waters and she’ll give me a smile or two. And then if we feel like it the moment will grow wistful and I’ll gaze across the waters and then she will join and do the same. The times when we both in tandem look across the lake are the times when our minds tend to be most in sync and so then she (or I) will bring up the subject that is a bit further down yet no less potentially painful because of the depth at which it sits. It’s far too long since we’ve had a frank heart to heart, and maybe that’s the reason for the distances that now lingers between us in moments such as this. Oh come down my love and join me at the end of the dock. Let’s sit under moonlight and stars and share our deepest heartaches and linger in the intimacies in being truly known by the other. I will open up myself to you – will you not do the same? Listen to the piano and the sound the fingers make sweetly dancing hither and yon. I hear the music now and yes the footsteps nearing.
MKT
A lovely evening is at hand! Yes, the week has been long and tiring. Yes, it is now June and Houston is just loving getting back in the swing of summer dressed in all its torrid finery. Yes, work is hectic and the stress is starting to creep up and all the drama of office life is upon me. Yet. I cannot complain for I know the God who made me and the God who sustains me and every moment I breathe in I know it’s for the glory of the God who calls me his child. Joy fills my heart as I consider that I am beloved of God. What wonder, what bliss! All the fears and trials of the week fade away as I consider what it will someday be to look into my Saviour’s face. Someday comes.
Something Weird 