Adding to The Beauty

"Sit with me and tell me once again/of the story that's been told us/of the power that will hold us/of the beauty/of the beauty. Why it matters.

Sit with me until I understand/why our thinking/and creating/and our efforts of mirrating/of the beauty, of th ebeauty/ why it matters."

~ sara Groves "Why it Matters" 2005




The first time I heard this song (which you should all download if you enjoy good music with a fabulous message), I was captured by it. Musically, it drew me in. Lyrically, I was intrigued. I listened to it six times. I pulled out the liner notes and read the lyrics carfully. It's a song about art, and why, out of all the things we do in life, it matters.

I'm not a fantastic artist, nor will I ever claim to be. but I love art. I love the beauty it creates, the beauty it reveals, and the power that draws you in, calling you closer and closer to the Creator. I love being able to use the finite abilities I have to create. Obviously for those of you who know me, I spend most of my creative energy creating stories and elaborate worlds in which my characters exsist. BUt, as I've said before in previous ways, I'm discovering that being an artist is more than enjoying art, or being able to create it. A Christian artist has a call--to emphasize and add to the beauty of God. I'm understanding that in new ways as I listen to artists I respect elaborate on their theories about it, and as God begins to show me that creativity is inborn and useful, because He uses it in a way that no spoken word or piece of theology can be used. As my writing curriculum states: "[It] create[s] a world filled with light and life. a world that mirros and interprets for our readers God's creation, that explains and organizes meaning, insight, and emotion--that points the way." It speaks to a part of our soul that is unreachable by intellect and rationale and logic. It moves beyond the tendancy to analyze and disect, and pulls out the parts of us that are daily shoved aside and forced to hide, the parts of us that were created in God's image.

In orther words, it matters.

Ministry Wear

I'm wondering today, in the wake of a weekend retreat with eight teens, what elements are necessary in a person of ministry to be effective. Does one need to have a completely wholesome attitude at all times? Do you have to want to do it all the time, or is there a place for duty and commitment to play its part? I ask this becuase, lately I haven't really felt like doing much of anything. I'm involved in two ministries right now. Younglife and childcare at church. To be honest, neither one of them is something I spend the week looking forward to. Childcare is OK, but I spend a lot of time with kids, and something about church kids kind of annoys me (that's another subject all together). Young Life has been good up until now, but lately I've been wondering what my position there should be. I am not an attractive personality. I'm easily annoyed, especially when it invovles respect or lack thereof. I hate the music they listen to, and on top of that I don't think that my "work" is effective or useful. I wonder if I'm not trying hard enough or doing enough, but the idea of doing more exhausts me.
And then there's the whole question of my motives. It's so easy, when working with "at risk" teens, to want to solve their social, economic and spiritual problems, but really they just need to know Christ. But once they know HIm, I feel like they get left hanging. And that's where they want to be. I haven't seen a thirst for knowing Him better in any of the girls. I haven't noticed a desire to change their lives. It's like they see the leaders' lives, and they want them, but they can't conclude that if they don't make some changes, their life is headed the same way their parents' was... they're used to things. And breaking a cycle or changing a lifestyle is not something anyone wants to do because of the work involved. And it seems like no matter what I say, they aren't realizing that. (I've come to this revelation after the retreat).
I don't know where the answers are. People can sit around and analyze their ministries and reorganize and try new spins, but I haven't seen that doing a lto of good. And this emerging church stuff seems to only encourage the lifestyle that is the very barrier we're trying to break down. I guess I'm just frustrated. That the work and prayer and planning doesn't amount to anything at the end of the day. Probably tomorrow I'll feel beter about it. I'm sure some prayer and Bible-searching will take care of it all.

Family to Be

There's a commercial on the radio for Northwestern College distance ed. It's this guy who says something to this effect: "So you wanna go to college? I know what you're thinking. You can't go to college! Live in teh dorms! Eat six-day-old pizza from a box. Wear your hat backwards, upsideodwn and inside-out. but the desire is still there." I've been feeling like that tone of voice lately. "You can't be a mom. Raise a family. Walk around with a stroller and a baby on board sign. Wake up every three hours in the middle of the night."

BUt maybe there is a desire there still anyway. I've had time to get past a lot of the initial fears. And I don't doubt God's ability to make me into a parent. In fact, I definately have a head start over a lot of people because I had fantastic parents (and I've been exposed to hundreds of terrible parents at daycare). BUt there are little parts of me that still think this is the most ridiculuos thing that's ever happened, and I'm definately the last person who should be doing this. Really, the hardest part for me to deal with is the whole baby phase. I like toddler and preschool. I've had a lot of exposure to that age. Babies aren't as fun to me. BUt it's OK.

Anyway, I wrote all of that so I could share a poem that someone left in our church mailbox. It was left anonymously, but I inadvertadly found out who had put it there because the youth adults pastor had seen it and asked me if I was actually pregnant. But that's a side note. And I don't know whether or not this particular person wrote the poem or if he just found it somewhere. It's pithy. It's trite. It's sappy. But it's true, and it was special at the same time. (And we all know that I'm the least sappy person alive).

New Baby

The love between a man and wife

is a mystery so sweet

But it seems without a child to love

'tis somehow incomplete

So God looked down from heaven,

to choose whom he could trust

with His special little bundle

Created from the dust.

He knew He could trust you;

He chose you and you alone,

to raise this lovely baby

in your happy, loving home.

--Author Unknown

Frail

A lot of you have already heard that Daniel's youngest brother, ELliot was in a car accident a few weeks ago. There were a lot of ways he could have died, but fortunately, he made it out with seven broken bones and a punctured skull. I think it's ironic that Elliot, who home-schools, lives in Iowa, and is only twelve years old, is the one who just had a life-scraping experience when Wyatt is a medic in Iraq and is daily exposed to the dangers of war.

My younger brother is also getting fired at, but he's in basic training so it's a little more controlled. Ironically, still, though, it was my older brother who nearly died a couple of months ago when he slipped and fell down a waterfall, hitting his body against some jagged rocks. He works on a cruise ship and gets to do vacationy things all the time.

I think it makes an interesting point, though. If you had to choose who was more prone to death: a soldier in Iraq or a twelve-year-old homeschooler; a training private at Fort Benning or a light technician for Carnival cruises, who would you choose? I'd more than likely go with both of the former choices (I actually heard of two people who died at Benning a couple of years ago when one of my friends was there).

My point is that we are all frail. And we don't know when our life will end. Nearly everything we do is a risk. So I guess we should take more chances.

Life kicking me in the butt

I don't really have anything significant to write right now, but I felt like I should say something. I hate that feeling.

The Integrity of Words

Apparently I can no longer edit my posts. They say there are no posts found. Funny. They're still sitting there on my blog. Whatever. I have more important things to talk about. The integrity of words, namingly.

My college roommate posted her thoughts on this article,which I thought were interesting. It got me to thinking about the way our culture has watered things down to easy, thoughtless statements and sentiments. I've been getting frustrated with my inability to use words like I want to. When I read classic literature-- Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Tennison, Longfellow and so forth-- I discover how richly worded everything is. That is in part to the author's ability and talent. It is also in part to the wealth of vocabulary that exsisted in even the uneducated.

We were talking about family dinners the other night, and my friend Karen said that tey had a small table and never had to ask to have things passed because they could reach everything. Erin said, "that's called boarding room reach," and everyone noded their heads. I hadn't ever heard that phrase used before. And I got annoyed with myself. But it's not totally my fault that I don't hear these things. They arne't used anymore. Granted, if I bothered to look up more words and phrases, I would be more prolific, but there is still a leanness of words. And of their meaning.

I think a major part of the problem is our relativistic mindset. The it-means-what-I-want-it-to mindset. I was on a poetry site where we can comment on each others' poetry. I'd been noticing that one particular poet used the poetic word jaded in nearly every poem (ironically). So I mentioned that. I also quoted Wesley from the Princess Bride when he was talking to Vizzini: "You keep using that word. I'm not sure you know what it means." The poet responded saying, "I like the word. To me, it means darkness and tiredness." Well. Unfortunately Webster doesn't agree. It actually means worn-out, overused, or tired. (Kind of like his very use of the word in his multiple poems). He completely discredited himself (at least to me), by misusing the word. I no longer want to read his poetry. It's left uninterprateable if the words mean what he wants them to mean, even if it has nothing to do with their true definition. They don't mean whatever you want them to. That's all there is to it. (Some words can have connotations, I realize. I'm not arguing against the poetic use of words. but when they're used, they can include the connotation and still be true to their meaning).

Charlie Peacock is a really fantastic person. He recently wrote a book called "New Way to Be Human". In his introduction, he spoke of a college student who was tired and found that the things he ewas being taught were tired and seemed useless. He completed his complaining by saying, "Words just don't mean anything anymore." Charlie replied (regretfully) "In that case I have no idea what you just said." But then he expounded, and said that words are all we have. Words must mean something, or we have no hope of conveying truth. We have no other way to tell our stories. And if words begin to mean "whatever we want them to" then our stories lose their validity, for they are interpreted carelessly with with the listeners own experience and feelings attached. I, for one, don't want that to happen.

writing muse

I'm discovering that my writing is half way between discouragment and inspiration. I left the conference with some new ideas and good advice. But having talked with real published people, I also left feeling like everything I've written is inadaquet. The problem is I really love the things I've written. but now I feel like they need to be revamped (and they do in order for an editor to consider it), and I don't have the energy or knowledge to do it right. I can't make words work right now. And that frustrates me so much.

And I guess that's all I have to say right now.

Random Thoughts

I've decided that I don't like reading the blogs that are "devotional" style, where people type out a scripture and talk about what it means to them. Or what they've learned. I don't like the tone they take, mostly. And if I wanted a devotional, i'd read Guideposts. Some people make good application of scripture without taking on that annoying teacher tone. And I guess those are betr than nothing. But I don't like them, that's all.

My husband's grandpa died today. He's really upset about it, and that makes me upset. So far, no one I've known very well has passed away. So I haven't really struggled with the feelings that you have when that happens. It's hard to watch people suffer. And it's hard to see that they get heaven before we do. But I havve a hard time sympatising. I hate that i can't, though.

Uh... I hate how you go out and experience something great (likea writing conference), and then you come home and regular life seems worse than ever. Maybe it's just the contrast of great living, and normal living. But sometimes I think that bad things happen intentionally to make me grounded again. I don't know. But I wish I cou;d have stayed in Colorado a couple extra days and blocked reality from my mind for just a little longer. It's nice to be able to do that.

I don't have anything else to say.

Lifechanging Bill

In the forth grade, we had a Pioneer Girls sleepover. We watched all of the McGee and Me shows that exsisted. I stayed up "all night" with Rory and enjoyed the movies that taught us how to make good choices and how the Bible applied to life.

When I was in junior high, I read some books called "Journeys to Fayrah" (now the Imager Chronicles). It was a fantasy series about an awkward twelve-year-old girl who accidently gets taken to another dimention and a land called Fayrah, where she learns about someone named Imager who loves her and has a plan for her life, fights against the Illusionist, and then battles within the world to discover truth and understand the mysteries of Imager's ways.

In high school, after leaving a church whose ways were edging toward New Age, I read through a series of books called "Forbidden Doors" where two teenagers engage in Spiritual Warfare and learn that the powers of darkness are not as unreal and powerless as we thought. But at the same time, there is a greater Power that is able to defeat it.

All three of those media experiences changed my life, primarily by changing my perception of God or helping to expand it. They were comforting characters I related with on a deep level. All three of them, Bill Myers was responsible for. Out of the imagination of this hulking, six-foot-four man with a portruding chin and mischevious smile came McGee, Denise, Listro Q, Fayrah Wally McDoogle, and Forbidden Doors.

And I sat at his table and talked with him this weekend. It was probably the highlight of my writing life, certainly the highlight of the year for me. It was something that I'd wanted to do for a long time. I waited all weekend to elbow my way through the crowds of people who filled the lobby a half hour before dinner, hoping to stake a table with an editor or writer. I watched while others filled the spots of the table I wanted, laughed and chatted. It was me last night. I got that table. (and on top of sitting there with my favorite author, I also got to sit right next to Frank Peretti).

Some day, I want to be responsible for lifechange like that. For showing teenagers who are insecure and unsure of themselves and their faith that GOd is active, real and wonderful. And maybe, if I'm fortunate and blessed, someone will sit at my table at a writing conference and say what I got to say to Mr. Myers last night: "Your books changed my life."

Standing with Doubters

There are things in every religion that don't add up. i could start listing them, but I think I'd just depress myself. While everyone would like to think that their religion is ultimate truth and everything fits together, I'm not so sure that it does. I think that might be part of what makes it religion. It's founded on Supernatural. And because it usually involves some supreme being, there are things that we are not to understand about that being.

Enter God. Christianity. I'd like to tell everyone that my faith is perfect, that the set of values I've established are unshakable and perfect. That they all line up, and when you think hard enough they make sense. But I don't think they do. And I think I'm OK with that. It's strange. I've met a lot of people who doubt their faith, who question it frequently. and I think we all go through phases like that. IT's a scary place to be, when you start wondering if the foundation for your life is suddenly not as true as you once thought it was. You don't know who to turn to, and you don't know how to resolve it. Some people give up. some people change their thinking.

And some choose to believe despite it all. Despite doubts and trials and questions. I guess that's what makes it "faith" instead of "religion", really. Because I can reject religion easily. I don't like establishments. But faith, the relationship I have with God and the trust I put in Him and His word, is something that doesn't go away so easily.

So I stand among the doubters with my hands reached toward heaven, hoping that it's true. Believing that it's true despite my intellect and feelings. And I hope that those who doubt come to the same conclusion I have. Because in the end, it's harder to believe than not to. And I think it's better to take my chances with the claims of ultimate truth and absolutes.

My Limitless God

I just finished listening to the 2005 report from Gospel for Asia. It was amazing. Beyond amazing. More than anything I could even explain. It opened my eyes to the fantastic abilities of God. We don't see them here in the US. We've limited Him, and we've civilized Him. But He is on the move with or without our help. Especially in Asia. It's easy for me to say GFA is so awesome, but hearing the founder talk about God and His work through GFA leaves you only wanting to be a part of what God is doing.

I wish that I weren't so civilized in my Christian thinking. I want to revolt and be the barbarian Erwin Mcmanus describes in "The Barbarian Way". I want to stand with my limitless God and work in His unrefined, unexpected ways. I want to experience His power--the hope of the nations, the grace that accepts and loves and the mercy that saves. I want to be His barbarian and walk the unmarked territory.

Check out GFA on my provided link. It is well-worth your time and investment.

Purposes

I've been thinking about my poetry and how it seems, the ones I really love and feel speak the most of me, are the ones others don't appreciate as much. I'm the kind of personality that doesn't really care about that so much; I'd rather just enjoy writing and express myself.

But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?

I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?

I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. Assuming that my motive is the same as His, which isn't always the case.

I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes we understand the general purpose, but He has specific ones in mind. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.

Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.

What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it. I don't know what fruit they bear, and I don't need to, so long as I know God is working in them.


Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005

We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold

Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

The Gift to the World

I've been thinking about my poetry and how it seems, the ones I really love and feel speak the most of me, are the ones others don't appreciate as much. I'm the kind of personality that doesn't really care about that so much; I'd rather just enjoy writing and express myself.

But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?

I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?

I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. (Assuming that my motive is the same as His).

I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.

Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.

What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it.


Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005

We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold

Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

The Overwhelming Hope of Tomorrow

Tonight I feel like things just aren't going well. MOnday was awesome. I had a great day. I felt good about everything. And it was a good dya, so I had no reason not to feel good. Today, there was something heavy nagging at me most of the day. I can't explain it. A spiritual battle, perhaps. Younglife tonight was fine for me. Everyone else thought it wasn't great, and feels like there are major problems with it.

But the problem with ministry and with working with people in general is that there really isn't a set formula that you can do once and it works forever. No. And especially with youth, there are changing needs, changing lives, and changing relationships. You can't set up a perfect system. I guess there are those who would disagree with me. But the real question is, what are the things that you must do in order for the ministry to be successful (in GOd's eyes)? The obvious answers are prayer and the Bible, and letting the SPiirt lead... but the lines of where that ends and human interaction begins are so hazy. It causes me to wonder if there is a "best" way to do something like ministry? OR if we have to rely on the trial-and-error method? Can we trust that God uses everything for HIs glory? Can we believe that even the things we thought were wrong, were good?
Only when we can know that the things we thought were wrong were still HIs will that we did. And I don't know that I'm at a place where I am seeking HIm enough to be able to say that for certain.

So tonight I'm hoping for tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I'm going to work. And it's going to be fulfilling. And I will walk away and feel like I've done something useful. Eternal, even.
And tomorrow in the figurative sense, I will be in heaven with Jesus and the questions of ministry and perfection and life will no longer be questions.

The Familiar Place

It's not an unusual place for me
when the lost is so familiar
and trying harder leaves me emptier.
But through the blackness
He beckons
calling like the sea
to bring in the tide
like a lover searching
for his bride.
And to be found is to know a splendor
only seen in the dark times
--of restoration and perserverence
to have a hand to hold across the miles
of wasted time and untended paths
to be brought from the familiar place
into the hope of glory
joy of the crown
and greater knowledge of grace.

And then things took a terrible plunge toward mundane...

I guess the title mostly speaks for itself. I think that I need to ask God to put life into my daily activities so it doesn't feel so... boring and routine yet overwhelming at the same time.

Breathe on me, breathe o breath of God
Breathe on me till my heart is new
Breathe on me, breath o breath of God
breath on me till I'm resting in you.

And the Joy...

Today I'm feeling discouraged. I don't even have a really good reason to. I think that a lot of it has to do with being a little disappointed. I know it doesn't matter, but today at work, I saw some of the teachers taking home boxes of gifts from their kids and parents, but I had four. It isn't important, but it makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong that the parents dont like me.
Daniel didn't have to work tomorrow, but now I think he's going to be driving up to Minnesota to fix Nathan's car. That wasn't exactly what I'd planned on having this week look like, and we were just there this weekend.
And besides that, there's something about a discouraged Nathan that bothers me. I'm used to it, actually. I spent a couple of years being his friend when he was sure no one liked him after his fiancee ditched him. But I don't like it when the stable people in my life need help.
I can't find gifts for some people who I really wanted to get something cool for. And it's stupid, but it makes me feel like a failure of a friend. I can't decide what to get for my best friend. We spend hours together every week, but I can't find a single thing she'd like. And I feel like what I decide to give to people is inferior to what everyone else gives.
... that might have to do with the fact that my older brother is planning to give everyone gifts that are more than a hundred dollars.
Today it just feels like a kind of joy I usually have has been drained from me. Maybe it's my fault for caring about things I don't need to. Or maybe Maybe I'm just tired out and don't want to handle life right now. That might be it. I'm excited for Christmas, but it feels like things aren't going to slow down long enough to enjoy it. I'm s ure they will, though. They always do.

A Hard Time we Had of It.

I've been reading a lot of poetry lately, and came across this about a month ago. It was just so cool that I want to share it. It being Christmas and all.

Journey of the Magi By TS Eliot

'A cold coming we had of it
just the worst time of year
For a journey and such a long journey
The ways deep and the weather sharp
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory
Lying down in the melting snow
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces
And the silken girls bringing sherbt.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women
And And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had for it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night, sleeping in snatches
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse gallopped away in the meadow
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver
And feet kicking the empty wine skins.
But there was no information, so we cotinued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place, it was (young men say) satisfactory

All this was a long time ago, I remember
And I would do it again but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death
But had thought they were different; this birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
WE returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Comment

Does it bother anyone else that it says "Comments" at the bottom of the page, even if there's one? Because that really bugs me.

Do Unto Others...

Thursday it snowed for about twelve straight hours. It was cool, and I was happy about it, but I was afraid to say so because everyone seemed so annoyed. I decided while driving to work that when I got off, I'd scrape the windows on everyone's car. I did mine first, and let it run while I went on to the next one. At that time, there were only two other people left at work. So I started scraping Kelly Jo's car. I like Kelly Jo. Everyone does. She's nice and kind and doesn't really gossip much. It was easy to scrape her car, too, because she had only been at work for three hours.
Melissa is the manager in the afternoon. While I was scraping Kelly Jo's car, she came out and said, "Kristin, do mine too." She tells people when she's trying to ask, that's how she is. So I said I'd planned to, and I went off to do hers. She'd been parked there all day, and there was a lot of ice on her car. But I did it anywya, because it was too late to turn around and not do it, especially after she'd seen me scraping Kelly Jo's.
But it got me to thinking about service, and how hard it can be to do onto others as you'd have them do onto you. especially when they're telling you to do it. And their life is such a bigger mess than everyone else's. And they aren't very gracious when you do finally do things to help them. I wish that some how, those people wouldn't count, and I could just help the nice people. After all, if I were being a jerk, I'd want someone to show me that I was being a jerk. That's doing onto others as I'd have them do onto me... but something tells me it doesn't work that way. It probably has more to do with Love your neighbor as yourself, and "Let this mind be in you that was also in christ Jesus who... became nothing, taking the form of a servant and humbling himself to the point of death." That's a lot more weighty than scraping people's cars off. And I think that it will be a long process for me to discover how fulfilling serving the jerks of the world can be.