A Picture Is Worth, Well Something

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The Patient One and I got in the car and drove an hour and a half to visit a church yesterday.

And studied possibility and new and change and weighed some options, as much as man can. For in all the weighing there is really more of a  a wondering, what does He have for us in these months and days to come. As we make decisions at the prompt of His will and opening of doors and opportunity. Abundance on the other side of the stepping off and into a life.

My mind was swirling a bit with my post for today. You know the one where she writes looking over the shoulder, reflecting with sentiment and sap, good sap not bad sap, or with thankfulness and the benefit of hindsight, all twenty twenty. You know the one all covered in out with the  old and in with the whatever. I have a love hate relationship with cliches. They are just so cliche. They can’t help it really that’s what they are. I digress.

What if life is just more of a beautiful continuation and less of a stop and start of days and years. Just a generous outpouring of well, life.

My mind was swirling a bit about the what was and what will be. And then I saw this and I could not and cannot stop thinking of what it says as it sings to my soul. And it does that. It whispers and sings and it is so sweet.

It is the beauty in the ash.

It is the hope in things to come.

It’s the new and tender mercy on the other side of pain and disappointment.

It is the unexpected joy.

And I can’t stop starring like an awkward teenage boy at the sight of a beautiful young girl. The picture is romancing me. It is calling to the dark and out of the dark.

There were no rolled eyes when I asked him to stop. Well really screamed stop. He slammed on the breaks when I saw the scene and screamed stop here I have to take a picture.

There was no hesitation. There was accomodation.

When Beauty calls and the world speaks and we stop to listen there is story and lesson and meaning and yes singing too. To a soul.

So I will muse a little in my soul about resolution and change and dreams and desires.

I will plan and weigh and dance around a list of life to-do’s.

But mostly I will dream with an expectancy and hope. I will launch my soul into the days of all that I see in this picture taken after church on the last Sunday in 2012.

Beauty rising from the soil of cold December.

Tender new blanketing the Earth in abundance with pale yellow joy, reaching for the Heavens.

 Seeing past the rusted bars and branches of death to a  beautiful hope.

Always.

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2013 facebook

Joining Laura for the last Monday in 2012.
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What Should We Do When The Lights Go Out?

christmas for fb

What should we do when the lights go out.

What do we do when the lights come down.

How do we feel when the lights go dim and dark and out and up and away.

When all the bright and all the light are stored and boxed and put up high, out of arms reach. Tucked and stored. Out of sight. And suddenly so suddenly the twinkles are no more. And the normal new normal is back to dim and duller, in the rooms in all the rooms where we move and live and have our being.

And plain seems to  reign and dulller rules and all the exteriors are undressed and no longer wearing their Sunday best. The music fades, the carols quiet, and still covers the nights of the bleak mid-winter.

So what should we do when the lights go out and up and are put away. And we grieve the change or we celebrate, our unique spirits reign during the days on all the days of shifting gears and changing lanes and traveling back down the roads of living before we stopped and prepared our hearts for the holy celebration. Prepared Him room in all the light and bright.

Oh, what do all  the souls of all the saints do and say as all the lights are dimmed at once.

Don’t we each see through lens with unique eyes on all the dark. Frame the change as only  I can frame and you can frame and we can frame the change, when all the lights come down.

As boxes take the baby Jesus back to tissue wrap and all the scenes of Hope and Glory and Redemption go back gently in their box, we all take time to grieve the change. Take it tender, take it slow.

And say goodbye or say hello.

And weep with tears of Joy or tears of pain. And look back with that keen hindsight on all the days to all the days of the year that is and almost was.

But what if when the decorations and decor and garland ribbons bows and such come down we see more clearly, all the bones of life. With all the fluff and stuff removed, or some of it at least.

And trim back ornamental accoutrement to just the what we usually have.

And dim the lights, it’s sweet that way. And turn the dial that dims the lights to see just you and see just me right straight in the eyes, of the soul,  of all the ones that gather round a life.  And see He is right there He always was, when all the lights go out.

When all the candy has come and gone and all the presents are received and thanks are sweetly given. And simple rules again in the hearts of men, what will we do what should we do when all the lights go out.

WIthout the cords and bulbs and lights, without the trim and trees and wreaths.

Its you, its me, its family.

And in all the dark and dim and dull,  the hurting and the weak still stand.  The lonely, sick and so afraid, still look for light to shine on them.

So when the lights go out and down and up, let’s be and shine and show and love with all the Light from Love Come Down, At Christmas.

In all the dark, in all the days of all the year for all the world to see.

Paint with brush strokes the flames of Hope and Mercy bright and glowing.

Where death and pain and hurt and dark are seeking His bright love.

Let’s still sing loud and soft and sweet,  let’s still tell Truth and tell it tender,  let’s still Love and Be the People Bearing Light.

And lets stand, huddle, rest not move, in the shadow of His perfect light and love.

Stand with me, rest with me, linger long and slow. Let’s stand together, touching always the hem of His garment of perfect love. There in the light, in the heavenly light.

Dim the lights of the world all you want, for in Him there is no darkness at all.

In Him there is no darkness at all. And the broken Hallelujahs and the always Alleluias sing loud and clear in the light, in the bright light. In the forever light.

Merry The Days After Christmas…. remembering always the Light and The Hope of Glory in Him.

There is not a trace of darkness in Him – 1 John 1:5

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Tell Me A Story

grafting trees

Tell Me A Story

tell me a story all covered and cloacked in miracle and love

hope and wonder, the starring roles

tell me a story all colored in bright, shaded in laughter loud and so long

start near the end where things are closed, grafted in love and tender delight

each stands alone and each one merges in love with the others

no open unendings, no unfinished business

no, add the happily everafters all day long

or even everafters will do, they’ll do

tell me a story all knitted and sewn by hand in love

stitches of  tender mercies  mixed with intimate whispered i love yous

and tell me a story

i won’t miss a word

of family present bound by blood, tears and  love

the one where they are joined together so very tight

all wrapped in bright shiny, like packages with bows

gifts from Good Giver, presents of love

stop at the good parts, rest there awhile, turn your page slowly

rush not, don’t hurry

please tell it slow and steady in every detail

rest and pause often, stop at the good parts

savoring the best places and times

tell me a story of love and forgiveness

tell me a story of family redemptive

tell me a story, uniquely mine

The Land Where The Unknowns Live – (The Power of The Wind)

Cracking the door open a smidge and peeking back in for a moment or two. Oh the challenge of keeping the writers quiet with their paperless canvas, when all the world is swirling and brimming and blustering and shining.

Voiceless it cries,
Wingless flutters,
Toothless bites,
Mouthless mutters.

-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

The Land Where The Unknowns Live

the mt storms, the wind

She sailed her boat on the seas of life where the winds blew white capped waves

Deep cracks and crevices on broken seas crept over her vessel’s sides

She sailed her craft under a sky so grey, with tears on cusp of breaking edge

Salty, stockpiled and ready to roll

Stealing salt from the tops of waves

And she sailed her ship, solo, so alone

To a land where the unknowns lived

Under night dark skies, painted  charcoals, ebonies,  and slates

Highlighted in battleship greys

Mirroring the melange of a heart and soul

And the sails they flapped and flailed and feinted, tattered and torn

So weak and wobbly worn

Ripped under the power and might of the storms

The swirling howling honking sounds came

And the all arounds blew

Under its gale-force currents of power and might

The breakables broke and the sediment shifted

While the trees they snapped, the roots gave way

As the wind tears all that’s shallow and weak

And the limbs bent, broke, tumbled, tossed

Then felled

As the howling power, like a runaway train

Brought the loose things loose while the winds swept the land

And carried things off in a current of cleansing

As the wind blew through, cutting a jet black night

But oh the morning it brings the new

A cleansing of a dark and broken soul

And rolls back all black

And saves the tears for some

Other day

And shines the light of Joy on all dark

As the sun shines radiant through the trees

The wind blows fresh through the cheeks puffed full

Of Hope through the land where the unknowns live

So she mends her sails, or did He mend them for her

And  re-rigs her boat, or did He repair that too

Her working parts and pieces

Sending her off on a journey new

On a sea of redemptive swells

Where the pitch and toss

And the windswept new bring Hope to a journey, new

Fueled by the breeze so gentle and soft

Of a kind and whispering wind

Touching tender the cheeks of the smiling face

Of the land where the unknowns live.