Logos, the word made flesh. By the Word, the heavens were made. The Word dwelt among us and has begun the new age of our history. These words we might know from history and Scripture, but what about words that aren't being spoken?
The unspoken word is unheard.
The less we use certain words, the more lost they become. Tucked away only in old books. Trailing away into the depths of history to make way for new words. Throughout all history, this has been happening. What would make us think it would slow down now?
Authors complained in the sixteenth century how words weren't being used properly. Some writers detested the new words and the direction language was going, except, did they know they were part of a drab age of language, and a golden age what about to come? They didn't know there were better thing to come. It was a very good thing that change came to the language and its usage.
This world is spinning and remains unstill, and our language follows the whirling.
We are given the gift of old books and words of the past to study and learn from those who lived before us. As we try to be new, modern, and better than ever, do we lose sight that some very wise things that might be tucked away in the old books? This is the danger, I think. It's not that the language continues to grow and change, for that will always happen.
The essentials remain the same, as always from the beginning of the cosmos. Just as our Creator is the same. We are each of us part of the book being written. Our pages are being filled each day.
We have one Author, and we are part of one main volume. Each of our stories is placed in chapters of the book, but they are never lost. God's hand is in every page, and in His love, He gathers all the scattered leaves that are our lives to place them in the book (John Donne wrote about this in his Meditation XVII). May we review and contemplate those pages in early chapters, and glean wisdom and insight so that our pages shine forth the goodness and grace of God.
Is there glittery fair dust coming in from the window?
Or is it my imagination?
I'm going to require you to stretch your imagination. Sometimes we can grow so lazy and complacent with the artificial noise and entertainment that our world offers, that we lose all those innate desires to create, wonder, grow, and learn. I believe we were made to create, and given a variety of talents in order to explore those possibilities. It might not be writing, but it could be drawing, playing an instrument, telling spell-binding stories, brainstorming ideas and projects, coming up with ways to help others through processes or systems, or gardening.
We all need to use our imaginations more. Me included.
If you could read a story of your choosing about anything, what would it be about?
Would it be a meaningful journey?
Would you be learning a lot of things to unpack?
Would it be a mystery or puzzle to solve?
Would it be centered around family and relationships?
Would there be some deep, meaningful contemplative scenes?
I tend to want all of that, which is probably why I am so eager to read so much, and I have several books bookmarked at the same time. You cannot just narrow your reading to one thing when there is so much good to discover.
If you could transform one room of your house into anything with a bit of magic, what would it be?
Would it be a forest to explore?
Would it be a lakefront spot with mountains in the distance?
Would it be a beach with soothing waves?
Would it be a nature reserve home to a lot of animals?
Would it be a certain trail to a cliff in Scotland?
It would be tough to narrow it down, for the forest, cliff, and lake with mountains would entice me to enter that room. Maybe I can include it all by saying it would be a library, because all of these things exist within books and your imagination. I will admit, my whole home is something of a library, with books on shelves everywhere, and stacks in a few places, but there could be (maybe one day) an actual room dedicated to the books.
Until then, I will just have to let the fairy light filter into my living room.
A swift darkness covers your heart
Clouds coalesce and cascade around you
Lifting you out of what was a part
Of a normal day, normal work; true
It is hard to know that feeling is come
As if you could prepare your heart to know
When that sweeping landscape occupies some
Of every fibre, then the memory does grow.
Filling your mind of that mournful day
That depth of sadness never known before.
It pricks with a sting unnatural to God's way,
An eternal life we wholeheartedly pray for.
Holding his hand in final time, it was not to be
Forever final, for in God's grace we go not alone.
I just transferred my hand to God's, you see,
My grip falls away; God holds where we belong.
There can be peace in sadness, for eternity
Is still elusive, as if waking from a dream.
When you lose someone so dear, in my case my dad, you remember that day, year after year. You do not try to, it is just there along with the darkness of that day. As I look back now eights years, I find hope. I see hope. I embrace hope. Hope adds colour to the landscape, reminiscent of those years of visiting the North Carolina mountains as a family each autumn.
Through words of poetry, given in reflection and quiet, they formulate thoughts better than I feel I could. They speak as if I was just grabbing them from the air around me when I feel inadequate. Pen poised in the air for but a moment, and then words spill out in minutes.
As is my way, I had turned to books as I tried to grasp the difficulty of death. The author who helped me the most here is George MacDonald (1824-1905). A consistent theme in most of his writings/stories is this recurring notion of sleeping (dying) to wake up. A dreamlike wakefulness that sets one free. Of letting go and losing oneself in order to find one's true self, and reach the space of eternal life. This is particularly potent in my favourite novel of his, Lilith.
Strange dim memories, which will not abide identification, often, through misty windows of the past, look out upon me in the broad daylight, but I never dream now. It may be, notwithstanding, that, when most awake, I am only dreaming the more! But when I wake at last into that life which as a mother her child, carries life in its bosom, I shall know that I wake, and shall doubt no more. I wait; asleep or awake, I wait.
- George MacDonald, Lilith
This afternoon light is glorious, and it is fading a bit sooner each evening. The way it casts a glow into my kitchen invokes feelings of autumn (or in my case, wishful wonderings, ponderings, and dreamings of autumn). If I adorn my table with chrysanthemums, will that usher in autumn? This is my wishful thinking.
When we arrive at this time of year, when I start to see the northern places showcasing their first pumpkins, squash, apples, and sweaters, I long for autumn sometimes with the sudden desire to jump on a plane to the north. Of course, that doesn't happen, but in my head I do this. Is it a jealousy of northern areas? You bet. Am I done with this southern heat and humidity? Absolutely.
In church this week, we sang one of my favourite hymns - For the Beauty of the Earth. It was certainly appropriate in the midst of our hurricane recovery. It is a hymn I can play on my piano, and for some reason the tune and the words are so lovely to me. Perhaps it is because I try to find beauty in all things - whether it be view-able beauty of the earth or subtle moments of beauty in relationships. I feel like the refrain has been my anthem -
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our hymn of grateful praise.
To listen to my favourite piano arrangement of the hymn, click HERE.
When autumn rolls around, I begin to see the shift in seasons (albeit slowly) from the longest summer of heat, to a cooling season of transition to winter. Paradoxically, the falling leaves of autumn bring life to me as one who needs seasons and chilly weather. The leaves fall that I might be lifted up. God's wondrous beauty of creation has many paradoxes.
May the autumnal glow warm our hearts, and may the feeling of autumn get here very soon.
Hurricanes are not good for writing.
They steal my time and my focus.
They break trees, normalcy, and my electricity,
forcing me to leave my home.
Missing my home to quietly reflect,
leaves me off track.
I am ready, now, to get back.
This very elementary poem kind of sums up my past week and a half. When a hurricane is heading your way, especially when it's the biggest and most powerful hurricane (let's not forget it had 185 mph winds for several days), it consumes your life. Pre-storm you try to prepare. You fight the crowds to get water, food, gas, and batteries. You try to figure out what to do around your house. You might have to figure out where you are going to go.
And hanging above it all is the big question mark of where that storm is actually going to go. Because nobody knows. Not really.
When it comes over your town in the middle of the night and destroys hundreds of 100 year old trees and takes away all sense of civilized living in the heat of summer - no a/c, spotty phone service, no internet, debris all over the streets. You begin to look at life a bit differently. When you have to rely on family to feed you and let you stay with them, you feel grateful at the same time as feeling like a nomad. When your tires have 4 holes from the debris (yes, that's 4 holes and 4 visits to tire store) you feel like nothing seems to be able to go back to normal.
And yet...
It could have been worse, and we will get through it. We are slowly getting through it. My electricity was restored, and I was able to sleep in my own home for the first time in 5 days. But there are still others who do not have electricity yet and my heart aches for them. I know their pain.
I spent some time this morning in reflection, in a much needed time to write. I will keep on writing to clear my head and see what comes out. This storm has weathered me (I think it has weathered all of us), but if I am flexible, I will be better to have bent in the wind rather than stay rigid and break from the wind.
After time in reflection, the matter of the storm diminished from the mountain it was, to a molehill. I am able to see over it now. It looks surmountable. I will not be stuck here, but will move forward with a heart more thankful and more open because of getting through the storm, letting it teach me to be flexible, to be okay with needing others, and to know it is short-lived.
I feel sad about the circumstances we have had to endure, but I am still blessed and not lacking in good. Emotions go up and down with the events of the hurricane and its aftermath, but God is steady. He is my centre.
Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us.
Psalm 62.8
I am not sure I can adequately put into words the mixed emotions that have swirled these last several days, but I will try. From the stress of the pre-hurricane preparation and not knowing exactly where the storm would go, to the overnight experience of going through the eye wall of Hurricane Irma after it decided to make landfall in Marco Island (Naples), experiencing 100 mph winds sitting in a closet with my mom, to the aftermath of my historic neighborhoods where the debris was absolutely everywhere and huge fallen trees blocked roads and leaned on houses. Thankfulness abounds that everyone is okay, but our lives are disrupted in ways I have not known before.
As of today, I still do not have power, and the reason is pictured above. From my home (you can see the top of my car in the corner), the neighboring garage apartment narrowly missed major roof damage from this fallen tree, that then fell onto the power line pole and transformer. Notice how my next door neighbor has power lines strewn across their driveway. We hear that there are four pages filled with locations in our neighborhoods that have this issue, and we don't know when our power will be restored. Just across the alley and that fallen tree, another tree fell on the roof of a neighbor creating serious damage.
The drive around my neighborhood and the lake means driving over debris and around fallen trees. I could not even bring myself to take photos as my eyes were too wide open to the sad, broken trees and homes. The power of nature is a fearful thing, indeed. I slept in my home last night, and it was very hot, and extremely creepy in a completely darkened neighborhood and only a few candles burning. Tonight, I am accepting the hospitality of my sister-in-law's family where I can charge my phone, login to get work done, and appreciate air conditioning and good company.
Last night as I drove around the lake, the rainbow had just emerged, and I really needed the reminder of God's presence amidst trials. My home made it through the storm, but as that 100 mph wind was shaking my brother and sister-in-law's house that night, I didn't think that my tiny home from 1950 would make it through unscathed, but it did.
My heart feels heavy and sad for this lovely city. The trees, the historic homes, the lives disrupted. But the way that everyone has worked together to clean-up, clear messes, neighbors jump in to help neighbors has left me feeling hopeful from the showcase of the true human spirit to help one another. I have been on the receiving end of help in multiple ways in these last few days, and I thank those kind souls with a humble heart, and direct my praise upward to the Lord, because He heard my prayers.
Before I left my home to take shelter elsewhere, I wrote a prayer on my little chalkboard in my kitchen that said -
Lord please watch over this little treehouse. No storm is too big for You.
My mind is more at ease,
my heart is more at rest.
A bird calls to greet the day,
puffing up his chest.
I gather leaves that scattered,
when my heart felt scared and weak,
infusing truth and honesty,
through every moment, seek.
What of the wisdom from above?
First, it is pure, then peaceful, gentle, obedient, filled with mercy and good actions, fair, and genuine.
- James 3.17
Oh, that eternal perspective. It is hard to maintain because our own selfish needs/wants kick in so automatically, but it is essential. I cannot hold onto joy without it. I cannot hope with my heart at ease without it. I grow weary without it.
These kinds of qualities help lead me to that hopeful eternal perspective, even if I am not fully present there yet. I can at least get there with my actions and words, then my heart will surely follow. Maintaining the obedience in faith.
Suddenly, I feel uplifted as I dust and vacuum. Sometimes it is in doing the simplest of things that my heart finally gets there, catching up to the trust I had already been harboring. It lingers with me, and I don't wonder why. I know why.
Meditation on Psalm 16
I have no good apart from You
In my soul, this nourishing meditation
reassures me, it is true.
Each corner of emotion grows smooth
when I place my trust and hope
and bestow You all the room
Of my heart that holds my portion.
Falling inside the lines of pleasant places,
with blessings undeserved in motion.
When my Lord is the instructor true
and circles of love draw into that centre
my heart swells with less me, more You.
