441. Mesmerorials


 

 

[my apologies to blog only connections. I sometimes have great difficulty posting to facebook and have to reconfigure my postings to publish there.]

Image result for rainy spring day photosIt smells like spring again, fertile wet soil and pollen dust colliding into rare swirling perfumes. A rabbit has a nest under my back deck, which is driving my grand-dog Kermit insane as she sniffs through the deck boards and digs around the outer edges. She is  determined to rout and ravage that rascally rabbit. Meanwhile Momma rabbit has a buffet of lettuce and asparagus mere hops away from her babies. She is no fool, but I might have to shoot her later. I am not running a bunny hostel after all. No Hugh Hefner here. I have no interest and no license for raising wildlife in my back yard.  Facts is facts, Ma’am. Life is both sweet and harsh. The check out time is .22 magnum o’clock, Bunny girl.

Image result for two ducks on a pond picturesA pair of ducks also like to drop in on our little fish pond for an evening bath. Kermit the pool guard keeps limited hours, however. The pond is usually closed these days. “I’ll see your pair of ducks and raze you three rabbits”, she would say if she could talk. She is an elegant coon hound/ doberman mix who lopes like a deer across the yard, chasing anything on the ground. The only time I’ve heard her bark was when she was locked in mortal battle with a ground hog under the arbor vitae. I put a bullet through the groundhog and that was that. Sweet and harsh, so it was.

Image result for paintings of foreverSomething gets in me on cloudy spring days, melancholy or some other vague mood with no name. I don’t write on glorious sunny days. No. Instead I’ll plant flowers or cut the grass. Maybe go for a bike ride. But on these pewter gray haze days my mind wanders down emotional bunny trails, across memory lanes, around curious cul de sacs seeking deeper introversion… Meaning or at least equilibrium.

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I’m not good at most things that people pursue– money, organization, athletics, power, status, career advancement, big houses and fancy cars. But God did bless me with proficiency in language. I can speak, joke, teach, write, counsel, sing, or banter fairly well. And I’m glad for that, even though I would have traded anything to have been a great ball player in any sport when I was a sulky kid in uniforms that fit bigger boys. I see old pictures of myself and just wish I could tell that freckled kid to be patient, “Your day will come. It all works out wonderfully.”  But he can’t hear me through the yellow film covering the old Kodak snapshot. I suppose I would not l listen to my 75 year old self today if he suddenly whispered to me across the years between us. ‘Life is lived through the windshield and understood through the rear view mirror’, someone else said. Oddly or not, I am driving into my elder days and seeing my life in the rear view mirror as a dream, still unfolding in themes and mysteries. Thank  God I did not find my meaning and voice in money or sex or athletic prowess since they fail and eventually fade away. They are not the destination but merely glamorous bill boards hogging up the landscape along the lonely highway to meaning.Image result for paintings of remorse by dali

I know I should finish my billing, especially since my future son-in-law Zach dutifully fine tuned my computer yesterday. I’m sleep walking, though, dreamily pondering life, the parts and the whole of it. You know heal means whole, and so to be healthy is to be whole.

Old English hælan “cure; save; make whole, sound and well,” from Proto-Germanic *hailjan (cf. Old Saxon helian, Old Norse heila, Old Frisian hela, Dutch helen, German heilen, Gothic ga-hailjan “to heal, cure”), literally “to make whole”. 

This stuff fascinates me, my friends. Like mythology, language is random, illogical and eccentric. So naturally I am all in. Heck, my mother’s name was Helen, and I never fit all that together until this minute. On some level to be with one’s mother is to be whole and healed. She is literally where you came from, pal.  I see it in my grand daughter when she cuddles into her mom’s lap, as if returning to the womb. The parts cease their separate isolation when they are rejoined in the whole. Ultimately the whole for believers is a place of health and saving and wholeness known as heaven, where we will crawl on God’s lap again. Call it what you will.Image result for child on God's lap paintings

 

Yesterday I sat at a memorial service for a friend. Chris Little. Pastor. Husband. Father, Quite a man in my estimation. I posted about him last year when he died. It remains my all time high post for visits. And that’s as it should be. He deserved so much because he gave so much, dying in his newly tilled garden last April. Chris tilled a much larger garden, however:  his congregation of twenty years.  What did he plant? The Fruits of the Holy Spirit, according to Paul the Apostle in his Letter to the Galatians: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance (patience),kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” Over and over and over he planted, trusting in God to harvest the outcomes of such rich roots, seeds and bulbs. I knew him for only a few years, but I saw deep into the hull works of his character. How long do you have to sail in a worthy ship to know and trust it in harsh weather? Not so long.Rev. Christopher T. Little

The Harvest… will continue to trickle in to church and in to love and in to family and in to heaven. Wave after wave polishing jagged human stones till they are smooth gems fit for a celestial crown. My wish for you, Chris, is contained in Dylan’s old young song.Image result for polished stones by seashore pictures

“Forever Young”

May God bless and keep you always

May your wishes all come true

May you always do for others

And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars

And climb on every rung

May you stay forever young

Forever young, forever young

May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous

May you grow up to be true

May you always know the truth

And see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous

Stand upright and be strong

May you stay forever young

Forever young, forever young

May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy

May your feet always be swift

May you have a strong foundation

When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful

And may your song always be sung

May you stay forever young

Forever young, forever young

May you stay forever young.

 

I just want to check every box, my friend.  Till then.

Image result for paintings of glory by dali

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