Cinnamon Roll

Oh what a glorious day! A Sunday that now slowly winds to a close, I can look back now and simply sigh in contentment, thanking God for this day that he has made. Typically I do enjoy my Sundays but this was one for the books. Started off on a good note, as yesterday a cold front rolled through so instead of it being mid-80s this morning, was mid-50s! So of course when I woke up, could not resist going for a nice early morning walk. Well, kind of early. It was before 8 at least! Made a cup of coffee and then down the MKT trail I went. There were others out and about (bundled as appropriate for this early April chilly day) and though the sun was not quite shining, that was no matter. A beautiful walk.

And after? Well I shall not go into detail of all the things, but a lovely time at church was had – worshipping the Lord and celebrating the Lord’s supper with dear brothers and sisters in Christian fellowship. Afterwards me and Dani decided tacos were in order so yummy breakfast tacos were enjoyed and then we made our way home at long last…I shall not say what time to preserve our dignity. After my (annoyingly persistent) daily work call, we ventured forth once again – a nice 3 mile walk or so up the Boomtown way and then down and around to swing the MKT trail once again this fine evening. The light slowly starts to fade, yet still the spring flowers shine forth in glory. The jasmine is blooming full and the wildflowers along the trail nodded to us as we passed. The flowers were definitely showing their displeasure with the atypically cold weather for April, but I have confidence they shall recover.

Now what complaints can I have with this day? I got a lovely walk and oh so many quality conversations with Dani…on surely one of the finest days of the year. All the trees blazing forth in new sprung green and the cold air reminding us of the blood that runs hot in our cheeks as we feel the smile of God upon us. Now the meatballs are made and in the fridge awaiting cooking later to go with leftover peas and pasta. And I shall soon set aside this laptop and read a bit more as the candle flickers next to me and I see Dani across the way. But thank you for allowing me to indulge in a bit of journaling (been a while since I did that, no?) this lovely Sunday. It is good to remember and praise God for his manifold blessings. Every day they are present. Some days I do better at remembering from whence they come.

Understory

See back and forth swings this pendulum above this weary earth. I wish that I could write now of all the things I’ve dreamed yet for some reason – as seems common to most – my dreams are so hazy now that to write them would be fun for only one person – me. I see them still with my inner eye yet to put them to paper would just bore my readers. Is that not true? How often have you told your dream to friends and been oh so excited to share the mystical reality of your sleep state and yet their eyes glaze over for…well, for some reason dreams lose the power in the telling for the majority of their power is in the gauzy visuals which cannot easily be communicated in words. Most dreams, of course. Sometimes though, a dream is vivid enough and one’s command of language is enough to communicate in entirety the luscious richness of the realities of your mind as it trawls the depths of deep subconscious. This is rare though. I have never quite accomplished it, as much as I wish I could. Speaking of dreams. I oft wonder why it is that we so often dream the same dream again and again. Do we all have a dream unique to us yet somehow we are dense enough it must be repeated? Or is that just me? Or another question. Do you have a dream you remember from childhood, one that happened again and again and yet at some point it stopped and you now feel its absence and it makes you weep for nostalgic loss. Our minds are odd to be sure.

I remember a dream of long ago and though I can’t recall having it in oh so many years, its tracing is still fresh and I still feel the rhythm of its lilt in my mind. I am afraid to try and type the bones of this dream here for I fear it will dry up its verdant wonder, yet I will at least say a few words. This dream that haunted my childhood is one of beauty and motion, adventure and gratitude. Gratitude? Why do I use that word. It springs to my mind when I recall this dream, yet I do not know why. The dream itself is tinged in yellow. Yellow grass, the trees on the leaves tend towards yellow and even the air has a golden tint. The path that lies before me is of course made of dirt that seems less brown and more yellow. But though the predominant color of this dream is determined, the destination is not. In the dream my body is less a body and more a disembodied soul. I rush forward quickly and effortlessly, bouncing. There is such a feeling of bouncing and swaying and unstoppable forward momentum. Ever onward I go, along this path, seeing the yellowed grass bend and sway to my side as the trees laugh in my face as I cruise past. I cannot stop even if I wanted to. Onwards I go. I mentioned the leaves, I will mention again. They are yellow but not just a mass of yellow on the tree. Each leaf leaps forward distinctly, the veins bright brown atop the yellow backdrop. I see the leaves vividly even as I soar past. I suppose I don’t have legs, though if I do they must possess marvelous springs for I do bounce wonderfully. Ever on I go through this yellowed wood. There is perhaps a cabin ahead? At least that is the faint thought in my mind as I rush through this forest, but I do not see the cabin. I do hear the stream nearby and now and again catch a flash that must be the sun off the water. The sun’s light is yellow which I feel I must mention because it fits the theme, yet I cannot in honesty say I noticed the sun in this dream. I only look straight in front of me, all else is peripheral. Onward I go. Why is the light so yellow, why is the air so silent? It is a beautiful dream and though I cannot quite tell you why, I can in confidence say that. It is a beautiful dream.

I do not think I have quite captured the beauty of this dream, which hopefully my hints early on in this essay prepared you for. Alas. I suppose I have only my own lacking literary talent to blame. But I am also secretly happy – selfishly so, of course. This dream will forever be mine. It will not be shared and so diluted. The nostalgic spark that flares within me shall not die. I feel joy as I roll this dream around inside my head. But oh! How I wish I could share the beauty now. Beauty unshared tends to turn a little cold, does it not? I have changed my mind. I wish you could see what I see. I wish you could feel what I feel. I wish the truths that spring to my mind unbidden could also flame into life in your very soul. Maybe that is possible. Maybe you will also dream of spring. Tell me if you do. Or if your mind seems to be too much dry tinder and not enough bright fire, tell me that too. We must meet up over a coffee and discuss. We shall discuss the dying thoughts of winter and the yearnings of the west they stir up. And then yes. We shall talk of spring.

Espresso Thoughts

Early in the morning I sit here in the office about to plunge into the cold deep pool that is my daily work. Bracing it may be, yet there is no point in putting it off much longer. But as is my wont on a Tuesday morning, I thought of writing a few words of my morning meditation here even without much time to think or craft. I think I just wanted to state how wonderful it is that even with a 30-ish minute commute, I’m blessed to be able to use that time to listen to solid sermons and muse on the Word of God. Often does my poetry well up from such deep springs, even if the words I write are far too shallow to reflect properly these truths that stir my heart so. Ah but it is good to be loved by God, is it not? Even when our heart does not always respond with as much vigor as we would like, those of us who rest in the salvation bought by Christ can rejoice nonetheless in confident faith that we are beloved children loved by our Father. Oh Lord – be near me this day, I pray! Think that the love that the Father has for Jesus is the same love he has for us. Is that not marvelous? Is that not almost too good to be true? Yet it is true! I look now to that far shore and my heart leaps. Soon I shall know fully what now I know only in part. But if this love I know in part is enough to thrill my soul, what will my heart sing then?

Smokestacks

Another Monday begins. What this week brings who can tell? Or at the least, I can say for certainty not I. A bit of uncertainty, a bit of anxiety as we slide headfirst into April into chaos looming. But is not all of life a bit of chaos, heedlessly unconstrained by the chains that we so meticulously fasten around our plans in order to bring about our own designs? We think at times that if we plan just so and schedule in such and such a fashion that we might then truly have our lives set aright and in smooth and careful steps proceed accordingly to our will. We would be as gods. Yet all of life goes to prove us wrong. We take firm steps and we plan. This is good. Yet on this sea that tosses violently there is only one who can of his own accord calm it. Not I, never I. Is that not a bit reassuring? It is to me and you may wonder why. It is simple – I am every day shown how feeble and frail are my strivings. If the path of my life was up to me alone, I would have good reason to be terrified at the outcome. For I know the deep and lingering darkness in myself as well as the storm that howls round about. It is not a good thing to be left to one’s own devices. And so on this slowly waking morning, I look anew to the horizon grateful for my soul’s own mooring. I trust not in myself for myself, thanks be to God! Instead I trust in the one who never fails and never flees. I trust in Jesus Christ who gave his life for me. This is true and this is real and this actuality of salvation which has occurred is more solid looming in my mind than any imagined pain or hurt. I linger in wondering awe at the foot of this long dreamed hill and watch the flowers grow.

Lovingly She Said

23. Meditation and Communion with God by John Jefferson Davis. A really rather wonderful book on the reality that is true communion with God. It is easy to say trite phrases such as “God with us” or “When two or more gather in my name, there am I with them” and nod our heads and think yes of course we are Christians and we acknowledge that God is real and God is with us. But what do these truths actually mean? How can we understand ontologically what it means to be found in Christ? In a deeper philosophical sense, what does it mean that the Holy Spirit is within us and somehow someway working in us? How can as Christians meditate in a way that is healthy, theologically sound and yet also profoundly real? This book is a wonderful essay thinking through some of these questions in a way which speaks to my soul. I confess, I first read this book some 12 years ago now – when I was still residing in Aberdeen! – and I remember being much moved by it and giving it pride of place on my bookshelf. I have not read it since then and recently as I’ve been meditating more and more on the reality of what it means to abide in Christ, I wanted to give this book another whirl and see how it struck me this time. Well I will confess that apparently either I have not changed that much (false, to be sure) or this book really does hold some pretty profound truths – and wonderfully incisive phrasings to hit home – on the nature of our communion with the true God. This book is not exactly an easy read – there are some concepts that are quite difficult to get your mind around. But is that not only proper? Though I found some of the metaphors a bit wonky and maybe less helpful than the author intended (I really could have done with less of the Skype metaphor!), I do appreciate the effort the author took to try and clearly communicate what it means that we in actuality participate in the work of Christ in a real and abiding sense, just as we in actuality participate in heavenly realities in a way which is more real than we fully now understand. The author does a wonderful job of discussing some heady concepts in a way that enflamed my soul with awe as I considered the truths of being a new creation through the work of God in my life. The author also dives deep into what meditation can look like and how it can be practiced in a way which is both biblical and grounded while also very and almost mystically real. I don’t claim to fully understand how God is constantly at work in those who are his, but I can say with confidence that this book was a wonderful aid to my pondering the truths of God and His works in our lives. And I loved the strong Trinitarian theme that runs throughout! Again, the author does not shy away from hard sayings! Instead, the author digs into the Scriptural texts and seeks to bring out their truths into the modern age. Yes, there are a few sayings and quotations in this book that perhaps make me nervous, such as his quoting of persons from a very diverse set of Christian persuasions, yet I cannot find fault with this author for being willing to learn from those who may not come exactly from one narrow stream of Christian thought. At the end of the day, I appreciated the fact that this book was soaked in Scripture and written by one who most clearly knows God and seeks to know Him more. Oh how I long to seek my God thus – and this book mightily encouraged me in that quest and gave me such a sweet desire to draw closer to my God.

24. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. A remarkably unique book. I have not read this book in many years – I believe since my college days! – and I recently felt a desire to read some more Lewis and realized I had this book on my shelf and simply must revisit! It was interesting reading it now and I had to be careful to not be overly critical at times! As always with Lewis, I am always finding little things here and there that I don’t quite agree with and sometimes the way he approaches a question feels a bit forced and sometimes I was wishing for more Scripture! Yet! That last complaint especially is a silly one, as I realise that Lewis is writing this book (or rather – gave a series of talks) primarily to talk to those who do not yet know Christ and certainly would not respond well to a scriptural quote-fest! This book is an apologetic book, walking one through the journey of considering the possibility of God and what that may mean to our lives on this earth, particularly if this God turned out to be the Christian one that has been shown to us in the revelation of His Word, firstly in the person of Christ and secondarily in the inspired Scriptures. Lewis’ style is – as always – a delight. It’s simple yet deep, bracing yet fatherly. We get a sense here that Lewis is genuinely trying to tell us something that he actually believes is really true. Which. Yes. In pondering this book, part of me is annoyed that Lewis doesn’t come out and say things more forcefully at times. Yet is that not purposeful? Lewis here is not trying to outline in detail a particular line of dogma. He very clearly states up front that he’s not calling for one denomination or sect as true or false and he also very clearly states – again, aggravatingly at times – that he believes most traditions have their validities and can lead to God. Yet this book is about giving someone the opportunity to ask questions about the nature (or even possibility) of God and then gently guiding them down the path of what this then must necessarily entail. I love it for that. This is a book I can easily recommend to someone and then say – read this then let’s talk for a while. This book doesn’t have all the answers – really, what book does? – but it is a marvelous primer for one who is wondering about God and thinks that maybe there’s something out there? Yes, it’s a tad dated now, written near on 90 years ago, and so maybe Lewis doesn’t quite talk or write in the way it would be the most helpful for those of us in the 21st century. Still though? There is definitely utility to this one and as always with Lewis, there are those sentences and paragraphs that shine with the most brilliant clarity and truth that you take a gasp in awe. So many nuggets that Lewis just casually drops in front of us. I could go on and on with some quibbles here and there, but really, I don’t want to debate Lewis on the details here, because the point of this book is to point us in the direction of a real God who really communicates to us and who really, truly wants to be in communion with us so that we can in actuality be transformed into who we are truly meant to be – sons and daughters of God. What this means we cannot now know, but we eagerly wait for the day when all shall be revealed. Lewis talks about real things as being real things. If God is real, what does that mean for us? What shall we do with that information? That’s a good question. I shall end with some of Lewis’ own words, which I feel will be far more valuable than my own.

“Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it. The principle runs through all life from top to bottom. Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Lose your life and you will save it. Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favourite wishes every day and death of your whole body in the end: submit with every fibre of your being, and you will find eternal life. Keep back nothing. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.”

Inheritance

tip tap the bird sits upon
the window ledge
and see how the oak leaves
flutter down
upon the yellowed grass
oh has it come to this
though the newspapers weep
i now see that the season
has come
autumn at long last
summer falls streaming on
my uplifted face
for even now my heart races
in the grand consummation
of even the dance of ages
for it has now come to past
that the invitation upon the table
has not been for nothing
no no says she look at the signature
and the wax still dripping
and see out the window the carriage
it is here it is here
far sooner than i could have imagined
far later than i long have wished
these groaning bones have no complaint
no longer
the grass so green under my feet offers a lullaby
and i see the vines leap upwards the strong wrought seaside tower
tick tock sea spray falls

Countryside

Just finished making my little tomato/avocado salad and popped it in the fridge. Now? Well the burritos will at some point be put in the oven for dinner, but that point is still far off. It’s a Friday evening and while it’s been a good week…also been a tiring one. Wonderfully – a quiet night is now at hand! I wish I could say I’d try and write a bit, but not sure it’s in the cards. Perhaps a poem or two, perhaps. And really at some point I should work a bit more on my long prose. But for the now, I’m oh so grateful for a night where I can simply rest in our cosy apartment at the end of a long week. I think a bit of quality classical music is in order and of course a candle. And books? Without question. I’m close to finishing up Mere Christianity – a joy and delight as expected, a vigorous fresh breeze of truth and clarity. And I may also read a bit more of my WWI book – Sleepwalkers, which is inordinately fascinating and I really can’t put it down, though I must at some point in order to make time for book club book – Mrs. Dalloway. I think that last shall be the crown jewel of the evening for there is almost nothing that I enjoy more than to open a new book and sink deep into the world within. Well in actuality there is a list of probably ten or more things that I enjoy more, but I shall not bore you now by listing those off. Let me simply end by saying how grateful I am for a night of rest. And of course – the joy that fills my heart as I thrill at the thought that I am a child of God. Peace, my friends. Peace and love.

Delighted To Be Sure

she deflected my question
as she leaned back against
the old antique stove
and asked if i wanted a cup of tea
what could i reply to that
but sure
and then as she busied herself with the kettle
i turned back to the table and cut a couple pieces of cake
one for me
and one for her
so now when she handed me the steaming mug of chamomile
i was armed and gave her what she’d had her eyes on
this whole entire time
the chocolate chocolate cheesecake that was her greatest dream
and as her eyes widened in that characteristic joy
i grabbed my mug and sipped and almost burnt my tongue
yet it was worth it without question
to see that smile that never fails
to outshine the sun