Wednesday, February 20, 2019
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
The Mortal Lease
Because our kiss is as the moon to draw
The mounting waters of that red-lit sea
That circles brain with sense, and bids us be
The playthings of an elemental law,
Shall we forego the deeper touch of awe
On love’s extremest pinnacle, where we,
Winging the vistas of infinity,
Gigantic on the mist our shadows saw?
Shall kinship with the dim first-moving clod
Not draw the folded pinion from the soul,
And shall we not, by spirals vision-trod,
Reach upward to some still-retreating goal,
As earth, escaping from the night’s control,
Drinks at the founts of morning like a god?
Monday, February 18, 2019
Sunday, February 17, 2019
How do you treat God when things in your life don't go according to your plan? Do you argue with Him using logic, blame, or coercion? Maybe you thought you would have had kids at your age, or perhaps a loved one was supposed to be on the earth longer. Your Creator is all powerful and all knowing. Is your faith strong enough to trust in His power and His divinity?
Quite honestly, I don't know if mine always is. What about you?
Saturday, February 16, 2019
Friday, February 15, 2019
Thursday, February 14, 2019
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
Ugh to everything. The snow, the tiredness of getting this exhibit ready, the continuing effects of recovery from bronchitis and pneumonia, how sleepy I was when trying to write this post, etc. I had a post in mind, and I just couldn’t stay awake to write it. Maybe next Wednesday.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
On Joy and Sorrow
by Kahlil Gibran
Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
Monday, February 11, 2019
Sunday, February 10, 2019
A dream can be a very good thing because it overcomes complacency and can fill you with life. When you dream, be purposeful about how you choose to include God. Keep Him smack in the middle of it all. Otherwise, your dream can take on an unhealthy desire, which can absorb your heart and mind away from God. Keep tweaking your dream and making sure you leave ample room for God to be in the center of it.
Saturday, February 9, 2019
Friday, February 8, 2019
Thursday, February 7, 2019
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
Robert Frost, 1874 - 1963
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father’s trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
Monday, February 4, 2019
Sunday, February 3, 2019
If you haven't noticed lately, we are surrounded by beauty every day. From deep blue oceans to the crisp whiteness of new fallen snow to chipper birds full of songs, all of it was created by God for His glory. With all of the earth singing His praises, He still shares Himself with us and pursues us. Let's give glory to God for all of the blessings He bestowed on us.