There's a certain, pronounced

Faithfulness in light;

Lightness in faith.

the winds of change are blowin' wild and free

Weekend Highlights

Saturday

Woke up to overhear Dad recording Make You Feel My Love (3).mp3 early in the mornin.

Got ready later, and Dad suggested we go get lunch... nice surprise -- he brought me here!  Everything was really good, but the saag paneer was the best I've ever tasted.

We drove around downtown NM,
(and, consequently, the Motel and Octopus Carwash featured in Breaking Bad,) 

 

and then stopped at a nearby flea market.  They sold bags of sugar cane there!

We closed out the evening with a nice in-home viewing of the movie UP, and I got a chance to work on some Christmas cards.  So pleasant, and great quality time.

Sunday

Lunch and journal writing-Jane Austen break at Flying Star Cafe, followed by
catch-up Christmas shopping for Dad and Kathleen, which brought me to

-- maybe the greatest store in the world.  At the very least, it's the largest co-op in the nation.
I hadn't even heard of it before, but today I was on the hunt for Smart Wool socks and after striking out at the local sporting goods store, someone suggested I try them.  They had quite the intelligent stock!

After some successful shopping, I came home to make some chocolate cookies for Dad... early Christmas present -- usually they're sent in the mail and nowhere near as fresh, so this was a treat :).

Bed now so I can wake up early for my flight to Ohio!  Never been this excited about Columbus in my life... I think it has something to do with the people there.  Home again, home again :o).

(t)here

On my car ride from Arizona to New Mexico yesterday, I ran the usual vehicular audio entertainment gamut; starting slow and deliberate with NPR,
changing pace with predictable cd, (first hour road trip's still a novelty)
and bringing elements of mystery with a shufflin mp3 (combating the monotony of 90 miles of nothing but 'straight')
to finding more pleasure in silence. (Usually takes a build-up; too early and the body tend towards sleep..  because, of course, nights before leavings are always late ones, no matter how diligent the desire to prepare better 'next time'.)

Always a gift, because silence makes silent thoughts
that much more audible.

This time, the combination gave me this:

steady thoughts of New York City, paired with mental associations of friends out together having fun and growing closer as a group (thank you, media) and so, essentially, a universal mindset of metropolitan expectations; community, new sights, old familiar acquaintances, and a diversity of musical and creative outlets -- live shows, drinks with friends, the shared space of cozy wood interior and dim lights and
light clanking, light talking, sometimes close to a friend's ear so it's clear enough, and
time, calm enough to see dust in light beams, and
silhouettes of adoring fellow-appreciators of all things right brained and alive, moving, breathing; left-brained enough to be getting somewhere with all of it.

and the painful realization that everything like this is so far from my life right now, which makes me cry
because silence and alone time make silent thoughts feel that much more emotionally profound, even when the thoughts are simple.

which leads to thinking to God about why my mind and heart treasure 'life like that' so dearly?

"I'm enamored by the hair on the head of the live musician, mussed but shiny in the light, because he's poetic and lives a poetic life."
"and I'm enamored by the silhouettes of all the other warm heads there because they appreciate the value in this."

Is there something in the appreciation of all this I can take away and make a part of my own life now, which time has seen fit to replace (these ideals of songs and friends and nights out) with pine trees, pine trees and
sitting alone on dark gray flannel to bask nightly in the light from the lamp in the far corner, and a string of them draped over the window,
to wonder?

Don't get me wrong God, I like pine trees, but despite the number and length of our visits, they're not the same as friends.

"... but haven't they laughed with you, stayed faithful and relaxed in place, made of having all the time in the world to discuss deep matters together?  And haven't they humbly shared wisdom volumes deeper than
many of those you know with heads and less-rooted lives and occupations?"
. . .
"I want to be with poets."
"Poet here.  Live the beauty of all you see.
I formed trees as enduring friends, but none have
your mout/h/ear/t/ongu/e/yes."

i (f)ly

busted lamp repair

God please
give to my eyes to work the way you made them.
To see your truth and beauty, and
internalize your light.

Lightbulb with no filament
knows just how I feel.

Go all Edison on me and let's make something happen,
I'm sorry for and tired of dusting in the corner under off-white obscurity
when you made me for so much more.

If our lives are our memories,
let's form good ones.

Perfect Judgement

Holiness means:
knowledge of your musical preference
gives me full license to form determinations about your character.
And you'd expect nothing less.

And Will You?

Like a tree-friendly meadow you happen upon
on a walk you take
because you have to find her

How happy she feels to have you,
how full you feel to know shes been waiting.

She welcomes you with peace
and hers becomes yours
she warms and cools and
quiets you with a grace not her own
and you're covered

this meadow's contours
remain
shaped into this land

and would you?

trees and high grasses live quiet lives,
   only the wind supplies their voice.

and only you can hear.
.

Compass Compassion

And doesn't a part of you feel bad for Noriega,
unwelcome in his own home
after so long?

No matter how many circles we run,
how wide or hand-smeared;
we all start from a point.

How late we learn to go home.

Faithful Living

By faith
we understand that the universe was created by the word of God,
so that



what was seen was not made out of things that were visible.

friends

Have you ever thought about all the elderly people living alone in New York City? 

You Know You're Growing Up When...

you're more critically interested in the head of the toothbrush than its color.

That's a Word

cat·a·falque/ˈkatəˌfô(l)k/

Noun:

A decorated wooden framework supporting the coffin of a distinguished person during a funeral or while lying in state.

Let's Move

from light to light.
From here on obscurity is a no go.

Lord

at thy birth.

God, coming into the height of your power as a baby.

What does this teach us about humility,willful subjection?

fiel

He's always been faithful.

I keep reading about places in the Bible where significant events went down, and those involved left signposts -- memorials of sorts -- as visual, tangible means to remember how God made his presence and care real among them.

These are structures, usually made of something sturdy, and lasting.  They're given names - names with meaning, always indicating something about God's character.

How quick I am to accept God's goodness as general provision, my 'given' share, an expected gift.
This seems devoid of gratitude, or delight, or pleasure.
It's just another day,
meal,
sunset,
breath,
thoughtful note,
phone call,
walk,
breath.

Who am I to think I deserve these things?  The moment I stop treasuring them is the moment I forget how much God loves and looks out for me.

He's the one who loved me enough to treasure me first.  Can I accept that he loves me enough to evidence it in every tiny treasure he places along my day's path?  Maybe it starts with simply having eyes to see them again for what they are; gestures, gifts, reciprocal treasures.

Everything comes from him.  It should be enough that he allows us to know him -- but to let us be part of him?  To grace us to gain his glory in every detail of our lives?

How should we respond?
With delight.
With pleasure.
With creative thanksgiving.

And maybe we can even find ways to return it.

Surely

You provide for me, too.

Photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/nilzxx

Light

It's always darkest before the dawn.

Photo by tpjerematic.deviantart.com

hold on

I know
I haven't reason to be
but God I feel so
lonely
lonely
lonely.

The LORD your God is with you,
     the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
     in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
     but will rejoice over you with singing.
                                   Zephaniah 3:17

Please don't let me forget.

So much
I don't
understand.

Giving Love

"He had walked through woods and sat at night beside a campfire.  Although he had through the memories learned about the pain of loss and loneliness, now he gained, too, an understanding of solitude and its joy.

  What is your favorite?  Jonas asked The Giver.  You don't have to give it away yet, he added quickly.
   Just tell me about it, so I can look forward to it, because I'll have to receive it when your job is done.  
The Giver smiled.  Lie down, he said.  I'm happy to give it to you.
Jonas felt the joy of it as soon as the memory began.  Sometimes it took a while for him to get his bearings, to find his place.  But this time he fit right in and felt the happiness that pervaded the memory.
 
He was in a room filled with people, and it was warm, with firelight glowing on a hearth.  He could see through a window that outside it was night, and snowing.  There were colored lights: red and green and yellow, twinkling from a tree which was, oddly, inside the room.  On a table, lighted candles stood in a polished golden holder and cast a soft, flickering glow.  He could smell things cooking, and he heard soft laughter.  A golden-haired dog lay sleeping on the floor.
  On the floor there were packages wrapped in brightly colored paper and tied with gleaming ribbons,  As Jonas watched, a small child began to pick up the packages and pass them around the room:  to other children, to adults who were obviously parents, and to an older, quiet couple, man and woman, who sat smiling together on a couch.
   While Jonas watched, the people began one by one to untie the ribbons on the packages, to unwrap the bright papers, open the boxes and reveal toys and clothing and books.  There were cries of delight.  They hugged one another.
  The small child went and sat on the lap of the old woman, and she rocked him and rubbed her cheek against his.
   Jonas opened his eyes and lay contentedly on the bed, still luxuriating in the warm and comforting memory.  It had all been there, all the things he had learned to treasure.

  What did you perceive? The Giver asked.

  Warmth, Jonas replied.  And happiness.  And -- let me think. Family. That it was a celebration of some sort, a holiday.  And something else -- I can't quite get the word for it.

It will come to you.

Who were the old people?  Why were they there?

It puzzled Jonas, seeing them in the room.  The Old of the community did not ever leave their special place, the House of the Old, where they were so well cared for and respected.

They were called Grandparents.

Grand parents?
Grandparents.  It meant parents-of-the-parents, long ago.

Back and back and back?  Jonas began to laugh.  So actually, there could be parents-of-the-parents-of-the-parents-of-the-parents?  The Giver laughed, too.

That's right.  It's a little like looking at yourself looking in a mirror looking at yourself looking in a mirror.  Jonas frowned.

But my parents must have had parents!  I never thought about it before.  Who are my parents-of-the-parents?  Where are they?
You could go look in the Hall of Open Records.  You'd find the names.  But think, son.  If you apply for children, then who will be their parents-of-the-parents?  Who will be their grandparents?

My mother and father, of course.

And where will they be?

Jonas thought.  Oh, he said slowly.  When I finish my training and become a full adult, I'll be given my own dwelling.  And then when Lily does, a few years later, she'll get her own dwelling, and maybe a
spouse, and children if she applies for them, and then Mother and Father ---

That's right.

As long as they're still working and contributing to the community, they'll go and live with the other Childless Adults.  And they won't be part of my life anymore.  And after that, when the time comes, they'll go to the House of the Old.  Jonas went on.  He was thinking aloud.  And they'll be well cared for, and respected, and when they're released, there will be a celebration.

Which you won't attend, the Giver pointed out.

No, of course not, because I won't even know about it.  By then I'll be busy with my own life.  And Lily will, too.  So our children, if we have them, won't know who their parents-of-parents are, either.It seems to work pretty well that way, doesn't it?  The way we do it in our community?  Jonas asked.  I just didn't realize there was any other way, until I received that memory. 

It works, The Giver agreed.

Jonas hesitated.  I certainly like the memory, though,  I can see why it's your favorite.  I couldn't quite get the word for the whole feeling of it, the feeling that was so strong in the room.

Love, The Giver told him."



From The Giver, by Lois Lowry.