On Bouncing Back

Who puts laughing gargoyles on the rooftops?
And where are these people now?
For today don't we all put covered guttering there instead?

In other words, what's the equation that on the one side of the equals sign reads:
"Hopelessness?"
Is the other side littered with a couple of whoppers?
Or an endless string of paltry addends?

I sat on my bed yesterday, crying;
and when my spouse inquired as to my state of mind,
I didn't blame him
for his reaction, that is
when his shoulders shook
in silent laughter--no,
at least he attempted
to respect my dignity.
In fact, I laughed with him.

But first, my tearful tirade:

"It's that--
I mopped the floor--twice over--today.
And in no time at all,
here is a sticky Popsicle puddle,
a bulls eye right in the middle of it.
It's that--
I vacuumed, too, and spent a half hour cleaning the stupid vacuum filter.
And in no time at all,
the 6-year-old decided to clean out his backpack,
and dumped a pile of cheez-it crumbs
all over the carpet. "Oh, forgot those were in there--" he said.
It's that--
I got a migraine headache
(out of the blue)
that barely gave me time enough
to throw the half-made supper on the table
and run to bed
before visions of pulsing prisms
turned to nausea and pulsing pain.
It's THAT and more of THAT.

The Cheez-its were what broke him.

Trivial, eh?
Well, the sum total (when like terms are combined) is more respectable, I think.
Because here's what it really is:
It's that--
I don't appear to be making a difference, no matter what I do.
Where do things progress
from bad to good
to better to best?

So when my husband sprawls across the foot of the bed, he says:
"What's the problem, honey?"

And propped against the sturdy headboard,
I resettle myself cross-legged, sitting tall,
and the words congeal.
"The problem is that
I should have different problems by now!
Problems that matter!" I cry.
"So if I'm hungry, shouldn't it be
that all my food was passed off to starving orphans in Calcutta?
And If I'm tired, shouldn't it be
because I've been fixing
corrugated tin roofs on Tennessee shacks all day?
But noooo, I've only been cleaning the trash out of my own van
and pulling weeds from my own garden,
the food from which
I might
share with a few close friends?
And tomorrow there will be more french fries on the floor,
and more clover in the dirt--
and THAT is my problem.
How can I possibly accept that my own trials and tribulations
don't even come
with a price tag
of altruism?
Nor do they come with a guarantee of staying 'fixed'."
How can You be satisfied with my life, Lord? I can not help but wonder.
But that was last night.


Today, I visited an unfamiliar church.
And such a venture reawakens the senses.
God said, "Look around and consider.
Here,
where you have the eyes of a visitor."

And so I was given a coin from the hand of God,
one like I've been given before.
(one to put in my bag for things eternal.)
On one side He inscribes shame, but on the other relief.
They can't help but travel in tandem.
To spend it brings a trinket for a holy mantle:

This place was the home-church of
my six-year-old's best friend,
and the two small boys like fish
squirmed all the while we sang.


Above us, works of art like Michelangelo's?
No, painted white, the steel supports.
Out the window, mountains majesty?
No, a steel guard rail running along a plain road.
The congregation, a diverse city of race and age and economy?
No, one of modest size and modest diversity.
For accompaniment, the noise of sounding brass and tinkling cymbal?
No, an upright piano and a small side keyboard,
giving chords under our singing.
Communion served from a heavy silver chalice in the hand of a glittering priest?
No, a basket and tray of wafers and juice.

(After partaking,
the six-year-olds aforementioned
traipsed the aisles
collected the juice cups
under smiling nods and pointing fingers
of their elders.)

What of all this?
I acknowledged,
my joy was full in that place.


So, I found myself presented, yet again,
with this question,
and I've been asked it before.
(In fact, a question asked of any whose
open eyes see
Satan's greatest lie ever plied
against the church)

God asked me, "Why?
"Why should you require more of what you would call substance from this life I gave you, than I require of it?
And who should take the measure of such things?
If you will demand
such high esteem
for all your intricate parts;
how can the temple that is you ever be
representative of priorities that are Me?"

I thought of my equation again,
and remembered that
in some places,
hopelessness
is ever an imaginary quantity.

Didn't My Lord Deliver Daniel?

So goes an old spiritual, and its query seems to be put before me this day, too.

Like dominoes in a row falling, so were the guided impressions of my day yesterday, leading to what I hope is wisdom for tomorrow.

I saw a bumper sticker, when first I pulled out of my subdivision, that said, "Oh no, not another learning experience." I laughed because I've said those words to myself many a time. But this day those "lessons" processed before me like floats in a parade, and I knew I was being taught these particular lessons by the Greatest Good know to man, therefore I was humbly attentive. Just for the fun of it, He used common and unexpected tools to do the teaching, but isn't that so often His way of teaching? ("You're using that to teach me something?" Modern-day equivalents to Samaritans should be honored for their status as illustrations.)

First, I noticed that I was seeing the word butterfly far more often than I usually do, and seeing it even while traveling a very typical route for me. The place most prominent was on a sign that read: "Anyone can become a butterfly." And beside it, a graphic that looked like a snaking river of bright blocks, a thread waiting to be woven into a coat of many colors. Now, butterflies have presented themselves to me in the past according to their traditional symbolism: that of transformation; but somehow seeing the written form made the symbol's appearance even more "approved" in its transforming power.

Later, in conversation with a friend, the topic of the Harry Potter books came up, as we reflected on a "debate" of a sort that he was having with another mutual friend regarding the overall benefit/harm of the book series. His comment was that insidious harm can be found in the books in such ideas as the absence of parental influence with this famous boy. The impression is given, he said, that the boy and his friends figure out the answers to their troubles without need of the guiding influence of strong parents. Now I agree that absentee parents are a bane of contemporary society, and this is a thing rightly condemned; but I also felt something deeper needed uncovering in this valuable observation of a child with remarkable powers to prevail despite the absence of strong parental figures. Strangely, I'd only that morning had something in my Bible study prompt me to consider the following: as I watch my eldest go out into the world this year, and as I think of the days when my own relationship with God went through tenuous times, making the fact that He drew me back into His fold something just shy of miraculous, I must ocnsider whether I believe God is able to do the same for my children should they choose to wander into similar dangerous territory. Do I leave them unguarded, so to speak? This is not to say I am indifferent to the call to cover my child in prayer nor to offer advice when appropriate. But the point I was compelled to consider was not so much related to the potential state of the child's soul, but to my own. Do I require personal significance in the life of my child in order to believe God will be able to reach him? If so, I am on dangerous ground. Could I accept that my child might prove even be better off without me, should a sovereign God so decree, and especially if our separation were the result of a sacrifice made out of my love for him?

I began to think of the fact that Harry Potter's orphaned status is explained in the books as being due to his parents sacrificing themselves to protect him a dark, evil lord. I thought how a wise teacher told him that the reason he as an infant survived a deadly attack by that dark lord was due to his mother's sacrificial love, a thing more powerful than any magic. Then I thought about the fact that drawing a readers eyes away from such a story for this particular reason would also necessitate that the reader reject "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe." In this story, too, the children are separated from the parents due to the parents willing sacrifice. The father is at war and the mother lives in a danger zone. She sends her children into the country for their safety, and so they find the portal to Narnia.

Then my mind drifted to the only story we have of Christ at the same age as these characters in these other works. Converse to the other two sample tales of separation, in this one it is the child who effects the separation, and the parents admonish him, but he seems surprised. "Don't you know I'd be about my Father's business?" he asks them. Could it be they had not yet accepted the limitations of their own position of significance in his development as Messiah? And it makes me wonder if that mysterious death of his earthly father, Joseph, might have had some sacrificial component to it--so that He might learn how to endure a later, larger separation from a Father.

Finally, this morning, my Bible reading moved me naturally into the book of Daniel, where again the question seems palpable: how much do the youths really require their elders in order to serve and please the God of their fathers? Oh, it is so easy to read the old stories blind to their assurances, to ignore the deepest lesson Sovereign God plants in both the sacred and secular tales of our own day. In fact, we read the story of Daniel and his companions, strong children, to our own children, along with the accompanying history of the same group in the fiery furnace. We teach our youngsters to act out the details while singing little songs to commemorate this wonderful tale, but in our daily lives we prove that we as adults don't believe it at all. Read and see: did the children fail miserably when removed from "Godly influence," or had the blend of their parents' and God's tutelage--for however brief a span--been sufficient for them to stand firm?

Dan 1:1
In the third year of the reign of Jehoiakim king of Judah came Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon unto Jerusalem, and besieged it.
Dan 1:2
And the Lord gave Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand, with part of the vessels of the house of God: which he carried into the land of Shinar to the house of his god; and he brought the vessels into the treasure house of his god.
Dan 1:3
And the king spake unto Ashpenaz the master of his eunuchs, that he should bring [certain] of the children of Israel, and of the king's seed, and of the princes;
Dan 1:4
Children in whom [was] no blemish, but well favoured, and skilful in all wisdom, and cunning in knowledge, and understanding science, and such as [had] ability in them to stand in the king's palace, and whom they might teach the learning and the tongue of the Chaldeans.
Dan 1:5
And the king appointed them a daily provision of the king's meat, and of the wine which he drank: so nourishing them three years, that at the end thereof they might stand before the king.
Dan 1:6
Now among these were of the children of Judah, Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah:
Dan 1:7
Unto whom the prince of the eunuchs gave names: for he gave unto Daniel [the name] of Belteshazzar; and to Hananiah, of Shadrach; and to Mishael, of Meshach; and to Azariah, of Abednego.
Dan 1:8
But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king's meat, nor with the wine which he drank: therefore he requested of the prince of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself.
Dan 1:9
Now God had brought Daniel into favour and tender love with the prince of the eunuchs.
Dan 1:10
And the prince of the eunuchs said unto Daniel, I fear my lord the king, who hath appointed your meat and your drink: for why should he see your faces worse liking than the children which [are] of your sort? then shall ye make [me] endanger my head to the king.
Dan 1:11
Then said Daniel to Melzar, whom the prince of the eunuchs had set over Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah,
Dan 1:12
Prove thy servants, I beseech thee, ten days; and let them give us pulse to eat, and water to drink.
Dan 1:13
Then let our countenances be looked upon before thee, and the countenance of the children that eat of the portion of the king's meat: and as thou seest, deal with thy servants.
Dan 1:14
So he consented to them in this matter, and proved them ten days.
Dan 1:15
And at the end of ten days their countenances appeared fairer and fatter in flesh than all the children which did eat the portion of the king's meat.
Dan 1:16
Thus Melzar took away the portion of their meat, and the wine that they should drink; and gave them pulse.
Dan 1:17
As for these four children, God gave them knowledge and skill in all learning and wisdom: and Daniel had understanding in all visions and dreams.
Dan 1:18
Now at the end of the days that the king had said he should bring them in, then the prince of the eunuchs brought them in before Nebuchadnezzar.
Dan 1:19
And the king communed with them; and among them all was found none like Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah: therefore stood they before the king.
Dan 1:20
And in all matters of wisdom [and] understanding, that the king enquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians [and] astrologers that [were] in all his realm.

Prophets, Poets or Comedians: who gets to Exit...

Sartre's drawing room?

My husband just walked in, looked me intently in the face, held up a glaringly orange box with bugs drawn on it, pointed to it sharply, and with fervor said, "There will be a piece of paper on the ground out there. Don't pick it up. It's not trash." I presumed said paper related to this box. Such is the secret-bait he hopes will rid our house of ants. (One man's treasure is another man's...) He made his point carefully, knowing well my tendency to scoop up and scrap various-and-sundry-things long before he is finished with them.

Tell me, (speak even though tonight, an existential bogle whines in my ear) somewhere out there...might it be...that a sheep resides in the wolf's clothing for a change? And in these days of Sartre's drawing room--the one that doesn't wait for death to be like hell, tell me: who will be judged fit to exit, when that exit be found?

• Is it the comedian I heard off-handedly claiming his obesity is a lot like global warming, "Sure it's a bad thing, but what can I do about it?" Is there a door for him?
• "Suffering sometimes serves as a moat and sometimes as a bridge," Yancey intuits as he describe a retreat he attended designed to mingle peoples: Muslim, Christian and Jew. They found little commonality in the abstract: but in the context of shared suffering, found much more. He should have a door, but will his new friends go through it, too?
• "One foot in Eden still, I stand/And look across the other land./The world's great day is going late,/Yet strange these fields that we have planted/So long with crops of love and hate," said Edwin Muir. But he stopped rattling around the apartment half a century ago. And his words, though lovely, were a long echo.
• "The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall,/the fly her spleen, the little spark his heat:/The slender hairs cast shadows, though but small/And bees have stings, although they be not great;/Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;/And love is love, in beggars and in kings," said Sir Edward Dyer. I certainly think he at least found a window to look through in his day.
• And as for the prophet-poet, read and see, the song of Jotham, the Parable of the Trees:

8 "The trees once went forth to anoint a king over them.
And they said to the olive tree,
'Reign over us!'
9 But the olive tree said to them,
'Should I cease giving my oil,
With which they honor God and men,
And go to sway over trees?'
10 "Then the trees said to the fig tree,
'You come and reign over us!'
11 But the fig tree said to them,
'Should I cease my sweetness and my good fruit,
And go to sway over trees?'
12 "Then the trees said to the vine,
'You come and reign over us!'
13 But the vine said to them,
'Should I cease my new wine,
Which cheers both God and men,
And go to sway over trees?'
14 "Then all the trees said to the bramble,
'You come and reign over us!'
15 And the bramble said to the trees,
'If in truth you anoint me as king over you,
Then come and take shelter in my shade;
But if not, let fire come out of the bramble
And devour the cedars of Lebanon!'

• And even now, my husband and son cry out from the doorway, standing just at its thresh hold. "Holy Cow! Look at the ants!" The creatures who would invade come in droves for that drop of sweet poison given, impatient because they have no leader, dying because we, too, refuse to sway over them, as trees they be.

So finally I draw a conclusion about this elusive exit from the anguished drawing room. A higher purpose--higher than a life spent swaying over trees--this is the pixie dust, the magic carpet, the talisman of transport. I stay here long enough now for this epilogue, but now that I've found the door, well...

Luk 18:16
But Jesus called them [unto him], and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.

Today I watched children swim, and I thought of the nature of the blessings You would have seen and spoken over their play.

First, this one: with the water sheeting off him as he trots alongside the pool, his wet trunks hanging just below his tan line. Bless him.

Then, another one, who giggles at a joke her father tells while they lay sunbathing side by side. Bless her.

And do such blessings come in pairs? For here is one child who looks on in amazement at the boldness of his friend. For his friend is a child who swims easily, a swimmer who barely notices that this one so like a brother has never done any more than to simply make a quick dunk of the head under the water. Still, when the frightened one sees his swimming friend in this new wet environment, sees him go full under and swim; well he squints his little eyes thoughtfully for a moment, seems to make an important decision and then himself begins to swim--faltering at first, but it is a sure start. Bless him, bless them.

And finally, most of all and the last one I saw today. Bless her particularly.

I looked up from where I read my book and noticed her during the pool's equivalent of a Sabbath: the hourly ten-minute break. Normally, many children hover near the edge, waiting anxiously for the whistle to blow the signal of their freedom, freedom to leap again into the water. And that deserves its own sort of blessing, for the restraint is a challenge. Some pools even put red lines two feet back from the water's edge on the cement decking, clearly marking the law of the pool on the stone.

But today was different. Few were at the pool, and during this break, when I looked up from my book, only the one little girl sat at the water's edge. She was dark and lovely, wearing a sparkling pink suit, dangling her feet in the water as she quietly waited. I put my book aside and watched her for a while. Bless her for the reverent quiet and patience of her wait, I thought. May her wait not seem too long to her. (It is a thing that matters in the larger story that the children tell so well.)

And even as I thought these things, the shooting fountains that signal this pool's end of break began their joyful rush of water. She looked over her shoulder, beamed a huge smile, clapped her hands three times, resettled her pink goggles on her eyes and jumped awkwardly into the pool, diving under and throwing her little feet clumsily up to the sun. She was utterly endearing. For a while she had the water all to herself. (It was a day unlike any other in that respect.) I got up to leave the pool's edge at that moment, so I never saw when or if she came to a place of sharing the glory of the sun-kissed waters, but for the time that it was all hers, I thought one more time: bless her!

On Being in a Rut

I wrote a poem on Mother's Day weekend about the Bonfire Poppy being a sign that prayers to God remain active, outliving even the more obvious evidences of His presence.

Now on Father's Day weekend, I find I've chosen a book at the library whose cover art--red flowers blooming in a highway's pothole--and inner theme echo this same idea.

So I open its pages, still a little breathless at the wonder of this newly-realized redundancy, and find another thematic repetition: Yancey wants to speak of Alaska, even as back-tracking here will find I do. In the introduction, he says: "I read somewhere that in the early day of the Alaska Highway, tractor-trailer trucks would make deep ruts in the gravel as they carried construction equipment to boomtowns up north. Someone posted this sign at the beginning of the road: CHOOSE YOUR RUT CAREFULLY, YOU'LL BE IN IT FOR THE NEXT 200 MILES." And I laugh as I read it, but I also remember a dream I had just a couple of nights ago, a dream in which I finally braved to tell the "outside world" about our inner-life, God, tell just one other a little of Your more mysterious purposes for me, and immediately after the telling (in this dream) there followed a vision of a snake spiraling down a bannister to the bottom of a stairwell where I found a small, short-haired white dog licking its own vomit--a proverb revisited that I'd read fairly recently, making it the thing to come to mind first and foremost. (As a dog returneth to his vomit, [so] a fool returneth to his folly.) I wonder, is that to be the lesson learned? Hide, be afraid, the rut you could fall in is ugly and gruesome. Truth demands I must acknowledge: such is one rut that could be before me, before us all--the hopeless one that sees nothing but the devastating potholes in the road. But...

But aren't there also the flowers? I look again at the illustration and take the courage to dig deeper. I look again for other possible references to this dream-vomit, and I see something more hopeful. A story, a prophecy in Isaiah. While midway in the span of "Egypt's" life the negatives we associate with vomit make their appearance, this is nonetheless a story of hope (made genuine and reliable by that very truth found in the telling of the "dark days" in the middle.) But to him who endures to the end of the story is revealed that the ending is a thing of beauty and wonder, the poppy in the pothole indeed! And are not the seedlings of those flowers sprouting even now?

Here is the problem in a nutshell: too many of us stop reading half-way through the story. God, give the strength to endure, to read all the way to the end, to wait for the flowers to bloom!

A Prophecy About Egypt
1 An oracle concerning Egypt:

See, the Lord rides on a swift cloud
and is coming to Egypt.
The idols of Egypt tremble before him,
and the hearts of the Egyptians melt within them.

2 “I will stir up Egyptian against Egyptian—
brother will fight against brother,
neighbor against neighbor,
city against city,
kingdom against kingdom.
3 The Egyptians will lose heart,
and I will bring their plans to nothing;
they will consult the idols and the spirits of the dead,
the mediums and the spiritists.
4 I will hand the Egyptians over
to the power of a cruel master,
and a fierce king will rule over them,”
declares the Lord, the Lord Almighty.

5 The waters of the river will dry up,
and the riverbed will be parched and dry.
6 The canals will stink;
the streams of Egypt will dwindle and dry up.
The reeds and rushes will wither,
7 also the plants along the Nile,
at the mouth of the river.
Every sown field along the Nile
will become parched, will blow away and be no more.
8 The fishermen will groan and lament,
all who cast hooks into the Nile;
those who throw nets on the water
will pine away.
9 Those who work with combed flax will despair,
the weavers of fine linen will lose hope.
10 The workers in cloth will be dejected,
and all the wage earners will be sick at heart.

11 The officials of Zoan are nothing but fools;
the wise counselors of Pharaoh give senseless advice.
How can you say to Pharaoh,
“I am one of the wise men,
a disciple of the ancient kings”?

12 Where are your wise men now?
Let them show you and make known
what the Lord Almighty
has planned against Egypt.
13 The officials of Zoan have become fools,
the leaders of Memphis [fn1] are deceived;
the cornerstones of her peoples
have led Egypt astray.
14 The Lord has poured into them
a spirit of dizziness;
they make Egypt stagger in all that she does,
as a drunkard staggers around in his vomit.
15 There is nothing Egypt can do—
head or tail, palm branch or reed.

16 In that day the Egyptians will be like women. They will shudder with fear at the uplifted hand that the Lord Almighty raises against them. 17 And the land of Judah will bring terror to the Egyptians; everyone to whom Judah is mentioned will be terrified, because of what the Lord Almighty is planning against them.
18 In that day five cities in Egypt will speak the language of Canaan and swear allegiance to the Lord Almighty. One of them will be called the City of Destruction. [fn2]
19 In that day there will be an altar to the Lord in the heart of Egypt, and a monument to the Lord at its border. 20 It will be a sign and witness to the Lord Almighty in the land of Egypt. When they cry out to the Lord because of their oppressors, he will send them a savior and defender, and he will rescue them. 21 So the Lord will make himself known to the Egyptians, and in that day they will acknowledge the Lord. They will worship with sacrifices and grain offerings; they will make vows to the Lord and keep them. 22 The Lord will strike Egypt with a plague; he will strike them and heal them. They will turn to the Lord, and he will respond to their pleas and heal them.
23 In that day there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria. The Assyrians will go to Egypt and the Egyptians to Assyria. The Egyptians and Assyrians will worship together. 24 In that day Israel will be the third, along with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing on the earth. 25 The Lord Almighty will bless them, saying, “Blessed be Egypt my people, Assyria my handiwork, and Israel my inheritance.”

Java Riddles?

Jesus was the Son of God and called a son of a Joseph.

He said, "Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men..."

How long has it taken it for us to figure that riddle out, Jesus, Son of God?

How long to remember there was another son of another Joseph, and he got some press, too.

Jeremiah says, "Behold, I will send for many fishers, saith the LORD, and they shall fish them; and after will I send for many hunters, and they shall hunt them from every mountain, and from every hill, and out of the holes of the rocks...

What's that Jeremiah? There's an after? And what of these hunters that come after the fishermen? (Look away while you still can, sleepy ones.)

They shall come with weeping, and with supplications will I lead them: I will cause them to walk by the rivers of waters in a straight way, wherein they shall not stumble: for I am a father to Israel, and Ephraim [is] my firstborn...[Is] Ephraim my dear son? [is he] a pleasant child? for since I spake against him, I do earnestly remember him still: therefore my bowels are troubled for him; I will surely have mercy upon him, saith the LORD...

Who is that, You say?

So Ezekiel tries to bring an explanation. "It's like this, you see," he says...
Moreover, thou son of man, take thee one stick, and write upon it, For Judah, and for the children of Israel his companions: then take another stick, and write upon it, For Joseph, the stick of Ephraim, and [for] all the house of Israel his companions:
And join them one to another into one stick; and they shall become one in thine hand.
Say unto them, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I will take the stick of Joseph, which [is] in the hand of Ephraim, and the tribes of Israel his fellows, and will put them with him, [even] with the stick of Judah, and make them one stick, and they shall be one in mine hand.

But who listens to you any more than Jeremiah? We are students not lovers, doers not listeners. So God throws down more, and a flicker shows in embers, an inspiration flames--however small--to dig up the buried books, those dusty at the bottom of the ancient pile, and look at the blessings spoken over this one called Joseph.

But as we look, we remember that son of another Joseph named Jesus who raised a riddle, saying:

How say the scribes that Christ is the Son of David? For David himself said by the Holy Ghost, The LORD said to my Lord, Sit thou on my right hand, till I make thine enemies thy footstool. David therefore himself calleth him Lord; and whence is he [then] his son? And the common people heard him gladly.

Is it that same You, Jesus, who looks at this other Joseph and offers this riddle also on his parentage (this other Joseph) almost the same? How can the blesser claim that "the blessings of thy father prevail over the blessings of my fathers" when he speaks to his son? Confused yet?
Gen 49:26
The blessings of thy father have prevailed above the blessings of my progenitors unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills: they shall be on the head of Joseph...

What's more, another birthright-riddle found, on tribal scale now, in the blessing of Moses. You know, this Moses, one called to deliver a people:

And the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush [was] not consumed.

And in his dying blessing, he did bless Joseph with the carrying of the torch (no pun intended) from the God of Deliverance who called him:

And for the precious things of the earth and fulness thereof, and [for] the good will of him that dwelt in the bush: let [the blessing] come upon the head of Joseph, and upon the top of the head of him [that was] separated from his brethren.

But it is also written (and repeated much with "knowing nods") that Ephraim's (son of Joseph) pride destroyed his opportunities. Still, the Chronicler says:

For Judah prevailed above his brethren, and of him [came] the chief ruler; (I know that my Redeemer lives) but the birthright [was] Joseph's:) (which to us now means?)

We are like people living in the days before the microscope blissfully ignorant of the germ that could stop our expectations dead in their tracks. We are so sure, aren't we, so sure that we have it all figured out. No more prophets, who needs them? The days of revelation are over. We have it all figured out, I say! So God throws down a little more--point blank, well placed for us to ignore.

Because Amos says, "Seek the Lord and live! Seek good and not evil, that you may live; and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you. Hate evil, and love good, establish justice in the gate; it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph."

But if we ever gave this thought consideration, we dismissed it quickly. These are not "our people" any more than we were theirs in the day of their visitation. Until now that doubt is so entrenched that we forget it ever even was a point of consideration. But we should remember, and why?

Because Zechariah says: And I will strengthen the house of Judah, (did you hear that Word, O Christian? Do you know when your house is the topic of discussion? Do you even know you're weak?) and I will save the house of Joseph, and I will bring them again to place them; for I have mercy upon them: and they shall be as though I had not cast them off: for I [am] the LORD their God, and will hear them.

So, fill 'er up with another cup of joe, Joe; and save me a spot, there on the leather couch under that potted palm. I plan to be awake and in attendance for the long haul on this one!

Holy Ground...

...and it's all holy ground. It's all living ground, and I don't have to be a "New Age tree-hugger" or a Native American shedding tears in 1970's commercials to know it. I should have learned it almost 2 millennium ago when St. Paul wrote:

19 For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; 21 because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Romans 8:19

Then, again, I should have learned it when modern writers like Walter Wangerin write:

"The spirit of this race is fully capable of the sin that does not love its own environment, but makes itself a god to be satisfied, and makes of the earth a sacrifice the gods devour. The spirit of this race is well able to justify the slaughter--first because it doesn't confess that the earth is alive, so there was no slaughter in the first place...The race, did I say? No, not all the race. Those presently in power, perhaps; but not everyone lacks humility and reverence. Therin is hope." (from the article, The Farmer at Eighty-Eight.)

The earth is alive, the earth has its own longings, its own voice; and we indeed fail to hear--for so long now that we don't even know we ever had the ears to hear. Now it is the voice of cracking ice caps and hurricanes and earthquakes, but even before that. it was a still small voice, and we didn't hear it.

Take the case of the common mallow weed.

This is its season to bloom.

And so we google to see what to do about this weed as it looks to mar the uniformity of our lawns, and we read:

Cultural Practices: Weekly mowing and low mowing heights will help prevent infestations of mallow. Dense turf stands resist mallow invasion, so good turf management is key to controlling this weed.
Herbicide Use: For optimum control make your postemergent herbicide application to mallow that is actively growing and in the seedling to flower stage of growth.

http://www.weedalert.com/weed_pages/wa_common_mallow.htm

But if we were to allow mallow to have its life and its dream and its song, would it say anything worth the loss of our uninterruptedly level and groomed-looking lawns? I saw a t-shirt advertised in a newspaper flier the other day: "I fought the lawn, and I won." The first time I saw that shirt, it followed more closely (and more humorously) the pop song that gave it its form: "I fought the lawn, and the lawn won." I wonder what the lawn thinks when I replace my old version of the t-shirt with the new one as I march out on its dew on a Saturday morning, a warrior looking for a fight. We look for so many of those now...fights. Even the grass under our feet serves for enemy. I'm sure it wonders what it did to inspire such an attitude.

Personally, I think this weed does have a song worth the loss of lawn-control.

Here is how it sings:

"The leaves of the mallow weed, as those of many other plants, follow the movement of the sun's light, turning with it as it moves across the sky. More unusual is the mallow weed's reaction at sundown. As soon as the sun sets, all the mallow weed's leaves turn around and face the east, where the sun will rise in the morning." (from Isaac Asimov's Book of Facts.)

If we were to allow mallow to have its life and its dream and its song, if we "remembered" its story and gave it reverence above our own infernal desires to subdue (even a small patch of ground if that's what it takes) and show that reverence to our children, we would learn that the earth is not our enemy, but is surprisingly a wise and beneficial teacher, but we must be so attentative and caring and sacrificial to hear its lessons. For a living metaphor of all creation's patience is locked up in this one little plant.

And what would that story be?

Hope and its answer from God, retold to the world, every single day.

Where is the Bride on Her Sabbath...

...and how spends she the days of her secret thrones?

These are days when and where she is prepared and adorned for procession,

knowing one day her hand will rest lightly

ceremonially

on the hand of her prince;

knowing one day she will be robed in a gown, brocade

shot through with thread

scarlet

sapphire

and golden.

These are days when and where she is draped and then embraced

by the hands of her bridegroom-prince

draped in supple white:

a mantle of feathers under which she will fly

but are they feathers? Or the hands of others?

Hands, reaching

believing,

hoping.

These are days when and where she sits in a midnight garden

and the glow of her gown is lilac

as is its scent

whenever the soft wind flutters it.

Here she sits by her prince whose hands are folded in repose,

whose eyes are closed.

Here she wonders what he thinks,

what he prays.

And she is quiet beside him.

These are the days when and where she hides,

(for she is not immune to the storm)

but she is protected.

With her prince she sits

under a vaulted ceiling of feathers.

And there

in the quiet,

restful,

subdued lighting

she sinks into her softest throne

--his as Eiderdown, black and silver

hers black and gold--

where they put their feet upon footstools

--his confidently on the earth,

hers hesitantly on the moon.

He lays his hand across the emptiness between and

She laces her fingers into his.

Take note,

this is the purest sabbath throne of all.

Time on the Greenway

We rode today,
my sons and I,
our bikes along the Greenway.

Down the path along the route the river ran
waters hidden
behind a rank of trees,
--a slip of promise through their branches--
we rode
along the boxy corn fields,
we rode
and then shot into the woods.

And I--
I remembered
a poem I wrote
years ago.
I remembered;
when the sun broke the canopy
fell piebald over the ground's ferny spread,
I remembered--
a similar scene years before.
One that drew my gaze upward--
So I looked yet again,
--all these years gone between--
looked for evidence of
the effects of time.

I looked up and found
I still echoed the words
written so long ago:

"I saw the patterns of sun upon the leaves
leaves upon the sky
and I wondered that in all those patterns
none were boxes."

Twice the age of that young poet, I see
what I already knew:
leaves though seasonal
are, in this, ageless.
I must go deeper if I'm to see
the evidence of
the effects of time.

So I cross hoary hill and dale, peering
avid to uncover the secret hid;
how did I sense its draw?

Here the land is unique.
Here the land is...
Time-scoffing;
a place infused with a mysterious power
to make the common and dying
throb
with beauty.

Where some places
a river, muddy,
sludges along its bed;
Here, the sun kisses it thick bronze,
its shadowed places
edged in rainbow ripples,
heavy, it glides.

Where some places
the old man is just another fisherman;
Here, the sun likewise transfigures.
His white shirt and cap sing
a fiery glow of fused-color oneness,
his line a silver thread,
strong where it plunges into the depths.

Where some places
the trees are musty dying,
prone to hollow trunks:
Here, the sun anoints them,
seals them to officiate
--rife with dignity,
robed in moss
stoled in ivy--
appoints them
to lean down and hear the secrets
of the river.

But deeper still, I would go
to see the greatest effect of time.
Its dirge is presumed by most
but for false reasons, I think,
In some places.

For when the river cries,
and the sun pleads,
and the trees moan,
Here,
it is not inspired by any loss
within them.
Their highest honor revealed,
they cry:
"Sit and reflect!
Without your pause,
your look,
your sigh--
We are to you,
but a muddy ditch,
and sour trees,
and an old man, lessening,
If you pause, will you see
There is so much more?"

But the people walk on.
Most are happy, smiling and nodding,
suffering
this faint, subliminal knowledge:
they walk a domain of secret grace.
But none go so far as to stop.
None sit.
None stare at nothing in particular,
(except maybe the children who ride in wagons.)

Should I make a promise to this earth,
so old
Here in this place?

Next time I come--
now I've discovered your charms--
Will I bring
a sketchpad and some watercolors,
a tall cool bottle of lemonade?
Will I listen to your stories--
The ones no one wanders down your banks to hear anymore?

A Catalog of Rocks upon Rocks

Gen 49:24
But his bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made strong by the hands of the mighty [God] of Jacob; (from thence [is] the shepherd, the stone of Israel:)Such is the promise of a stone, but in the inheritance-blessing of Joseph and not only that given to Judah? Yet, we forget what matters, even to the one we love best.

1Sa 7:12
Then Samuel took a stone, and set [it] between Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name of it Ebenezer, saying, Hitherto hath the LORD helped us.
Such is the stone of help, placed by Samuel, the prophet whose words God never allowed to fall to the ground.


1Sa 17:49
And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang [it], and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote the Philistine, and slew him; but [there was] no sword in the hand of David.
Such is the stone unexpected, hidden in the bag of a boy, that nevertheless fells a giant who cast fear in the hearts of many warriors for 40 days.



Neh 4:1
But it came to pass, that when Sanballat heard that we builded the wall, he was wroth, and took great indignation, and mocked the Jews. And he spake before his brethren and the army of Samaria, and said, What do these feeble Jews? will they fortify themselves? will they sacrifice? will they make an end in a day? will they revive the stones out of the heaps of the rubbish which are burned? Now Tobiah the Ammonite [was] by him, and he said, Even that which they build, if a fox go up, he shall even break down their stone wall. Hear, O our God; for we are despised: and turn their reproach upon their own head, and give them for a prey in the land of captivity: And cover not their iniquity, and let not their sin be blotted out from before thee: for they have provoked [thee] to anger before the builders. So built we the wall; and all the wall was joined together unto the half thereof: for the people had a mind to work.
And so goes the story of the interplay: opposition leads to prayer leads to boldness and success leads to more opposition...until the builders grow accustomed to working with a tool in one hand and a sword in the other. Such is durability of the stone.


Job 28:2
Iron is taken out of the earth, and brass [is] molten [out of] the stone.
Job 38:6
Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof;
From stone to fire to brass for the fastenings of the foundations of all that is created. Who is responsible?(Aa large question, indeed.) It is another progression given secret prominence in the visions of the prophets. Such is another story of the stone.


Psa 91:12
They shall bear thee up in [their] hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Mat 4:6
And saith unto him, If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give his angels charge concerning thee: and in [their] hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Psa 118:22
The stone [which] the builders refused is become the head [stone] of the corner.
Mat 21:42
Jesus saith unto them, Did ye never read in the scriptures, The stone which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner: this is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes?
Such is the nature of the stone as the fulfillment of the words of the prophets, and as the twisting of these words. Such is the diverse power of the stone.


Isa 8:14
And he shall be for a sanctuary; but for a stone of stumbling and for a rock of offence to both the houses of Israel, for a gin and for a snare to the inhabitants of Jerusalem.

But the fulfillment verse of this stone of prophecy waits for the second house of Israel to take offence.


Pro 17:8
A gift [is as] a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it: whithersoever it turneth, it prospereth.
Such is the representative value of a stone, and the promise of its future when it is given away.



Isa 28:16
Therefore thus saith the Lord GOD, Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner [stone], a sure foundation: he that believeth shall not make haste.
Such is the nature of God's timing when He works with the stone. It falls into place by the perfect work of patience.



Jos 4:5
And Joshua said unto them, Pass over before the ark of the LORD your God into the midst of Jordan, [when the waters were miraculously held back for their crossing] and take ye up every man of you a stone upon his shoulder, according unto the number of the tribes of the children of Israel:
Jer 51:63
And it shall be, when thou hast made an end of reading this book, [that] thou shalt bind a stone to it, and cast it into the midst of Euphrates:

Such is the nature of the stone--for revealing what is in the depths, and for hiding the same.


Lam 3:9
He hath inclosed my ways with hewn stone, he hath made my paths crooked.
Lam 3:53
They have cut off my life in the dungeon, and cast a stone upon me.
Such is the power of the stone to judge beneficially and to protect through chastening.


Exd 24:10
And they saw the God of Israel: and [there was] under his feet as it were a paved work of a sapphire stone, and as it were the body of heaven in [his] clearness.
Eze 1:26
And above the firmament that [was] over their heads [was] the likeness of a throne, as the appearance of a sapphire stone: and upon the likeness of the throne [was] the likeness as the appearance of a man above upon it.
Sapphire is the stone God Himself sees when He casts His eye upon the firmament He made for Himself. Such is the most noble work of stone.




Eze 28:13
Thou hast been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone [was] thy covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of thy tabrets and of thy pipes was prepared in thee in the day that thou wast created.
Hab 2:19
Woe unto him that saith to the wood, Awake; to the dumb stone, Arise, it shall teach! Behold, it [is] laid over with gold and silver, and [there is] no breath at all in the midst of it.
Luk 4:3
And the devil said unto him, If thou be the Son of God, command this stone that it be made bread.
Rev 18:21
And a mighty angel took up a stone like a great millstone, and cast [it] into the sea, saying, Thus with violence shall that great city Babylon be thrown down, and shall be found no more at all.
Such is the nature of the stone turned to greed, to commerce for personal gain alone, the stone lost;
it cloaked and identified Lucifer through the days when he was still an archangel and marked his fall,
it carried no words of life, despite the deception of its overlay,
it failed to tempt Christ, even on a level we do not understand
And so it was redeemed to be thrown for judgment: given to mark the end of the days allotted for decision-making and personal revelation amongst men.


Dan 2:34
Thou sawest till that a stone was cut out without hands, which smote the image upon his feet [that were] of iron and clay, and brake them to pieces. Then was the iron, the clay, the brass, the silver, and the gold, broken to pieces together, and became like the chaff of the summer threshingfloors; and the wind carried them away, that no place was found for them: and the stone that smote the image became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth. Forasmuch as thou sawest that the stone was cut out of the mountain without hands, and that it brake in pieces the iron, the brass, the clay, the silver, and the gold; the great God hath made known to the king what shall come to pass hereafter: and the dream [is] certain, and the interpretation thereof sure. Such is the fore-telling power of the stone's image when it visits even the dreams of a pagan king in days of old, that he might see the ending of things.



Zec 3:8
Hear now, O Joshua the high priest, thou, and thy fellows that sit before thee: for they [are] men wondered at: for, behold, I will bring forth my servant the BRANCH. For behold the stone that I have laid before Joshua; upon one stone [shall be] seven eyes: behold, I will engrave the graving thereof, saith the LORD of hosts, and I will remove the iniquity of that land in one day. In that day, saith the LORD of hosts, shall ye call every man his neighbour under the vine and under the fig tree.
Such is the stone that remembers because it sees with the seven eyes of God. As it was in the early days of Solomon, so shall it be again. For it was to the second king to call the people to sit beneath vine and fig-tree; and while we know well the vine, we have long forgotten the fig tree. But all is not lost, for the stone shall revive our remembrance and the vine will smile, having known all along that we would remember.



Mat 7:9
Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?
Such is the whimsical nature of the stone, the clever side that looks to see who knows to chuckle with him.



Mat 21:44
And whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken: but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder.
This is the stone I speak over my husband, as I dreamed him to be the ground-stone powder infusing the sweet silvery waters of glacial streams. This is the running water's favored state of being.



Luk 22:41
And he was withdrawn from them about a stone's cast, and kneeled down, and prayed...
Luk 23:53
And he took it down, and wrapped it in linen, and laid it in a sepulchre that was hewn in stone, wherein never man before was laid.
Luk 24:2
And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre.
Such is the nature of the stone as marker, given to highlight the start, progression and finish of the work of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Rev 2:17
He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches; To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth [it].
Rev 21:9
And there came unto me one of the seven angels which had the seven vials full of the seven last plagues, and talked with me, saying, Come hither, I will shew thee the bride, the Lamb's wife.
Rev 21:10
And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and shewed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God,
Rev 21:11
Having the glory of God: and her light [was] like unto a stone most precious, even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal;

Such is the destiny of the stone when that which is hidden is revealed, when that for which the patient ones wait is given. And so we say, "Hosanna in the Highest, Come!"

The Sanctuary of the Dream Giver

This morning I think I found the capstone to this series of stone stories, the one that tops the memorial we've been building. It is in our line of sight, but first we must finish our time in the place I've learned to call Sanctuary.

I'm reading a book by Wilkinson (author of the bestselling Prayer of Jabez books) called The Dream Giver. The book tells the story of the common journey taken by all people called ordinary who accept an out-of-the-ordinary, God-given dream. We have a God-given dream, and we recognize ourselves in various phases of its coming to fruition. My love and I chatted about it. We spoke of the various places we think we might be walking in the book's parable landscape: in the wastelands of disillusionment and faith-growth? Battling bullies who are afraid and stand to lose a comfort of their own if we pursue the dream? Are we even each other's bullies in it? But actually, as I read on, I think we are in the place he called Sanctuary, even while moving to the Land of Giants.

Here is sanctuary. It is the place where God says, "Come to the water" where we are cleansed. This has happened. It is the place where God says, "Come into the light" where deeper communion with Him becomes apparent. We've also seen that happening. We've experienced its benefits and challenges. Finally, it is the place where God says, "Come higher." It is here that He asks us to abandon our dream to Him. Let it go--but because we love Him.

"One plants and one waters, but it is the Lord who gives the increase..." I read in my Bible study the other day. This verse can only prove true in our lives if we have genuinely let the Dream go--not in resignation that we aren't strong enough, good enough, wise enough, etc. to make it happen, but let it go as an act of will and commitment to Him above all else.

I remember that dream in which He asked me, "Would you be her?" about a certain woman. It was not "would you accomplish the tasks she represents?" but "would you be her?" He then asked me later "Would you give Him to Me?" about a certain Child. And I wonder whether I am coming to the place of finishing my answer to these questions even now. I hadn't put significance to the wording before; but "give" means more today than it did yesterday. Give says "Surrender on a higher level--prove the DreamGiver to be more significant than the Dream."

"If you don't surrender your Dream, you will be placing it higher on your priority list than God...Your Dream will become your idol," says Wilkinson. I realize that this is the very fundamental shift of focus that I have been going through lately. I have been seeing more about who I am above what I am called to do. Many little things remind me to continue holding this being above doing. It is one of the ways of being a child, for what can a child really "do" to make him/herself of value to others? Yet this deceptive lie has haunted me since childhood: your value is found in what you do, not in who you are. I was taught this in childhood as I was forced to care for my infant sister when I myself was only 6-7 and very aware of my woeful inadequacy for the task. I re-teach it to myself every day when life circumstances whisper, "What you do is the key to success or failure in this thing, and in most things."

Still, You come to remind me to reject this lie about my value. Just the other day, Elijah was reading in a Highlights magazine the following question: How are a fork and spoon alike? My first thought: you eat with them both. His first comment: they are both made of silver. Oh, that I might have again the mind of my child. Help me, Lord, to release this death-grip I have on the "doings" of life that are so prominent in this mid-life stage.

A Child's Memorial

For many days, the air has been temperate.
Not too hot, not too cold.
But today a hot wind blows.
A strong, hot wind.

And the grasses flicker under it;
And the trees dance.
Their big branches bow and their little ones whip
while their leaves froth and erupt with light and shadow.
All flora reacts as if a great storm is coming,
But no storm comes--
Only the hot winds.
The sky knows, for it does not turn dark and ominous.
It does,
however,
allow the blue to be blown right out of it,
Replaced by the lavender-silver
given for days like this one.
And I stand on my porch,
listening,
while the windchimes down the whole neighborhood,
clatter frantically.

I consider how it is fitting
that this be the day I am shown
my youngest son's memorial stones.

He has collected them on his little dresser
--the eighth stone only this morning.
He introduced me to them, told me their stories.
"I call this one Ball. It is shaped like a ball, see?"
He demonstrated a pitch.
"And I call this one Ship;
you know, because it's shaped like one.
But I haven't named the others yet."
He handled them lightly.
He'd collected them with care from the upturned soil of the garden,
washed them and brought them into his very room.
Every little story tells a bigger one, and
I was honored to share in this one.

I smiled, and in my heart thought
how we've been given a privilege,
this knowing of our sons' memorial markers.
All the more sad how we stand,
hand in hand,
staring at the backs of our own fathers
--both yours and mine, my love--
Staring in mystified wonder
because our fathers do not ever cast their eyes
on the piles that we stand near.
Other things consume their eyes.
And the verse comes to mind again:
Pro 22:28Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set.
Pro 23:10Remove not the old landmark; and enter not into the fields of the fatherless.

And, resigned, I think:
This is the price to be paid.
For when we become as fatherless,
Our field is shielded by the hand of God Himself,
and the landmark is protected that He has hidden there.
So say the ancients.

I look across the rustling trees again,
and I am at peace.
For though no storm rides its currents,
This wind is nevertheless a powerful thing.
And today is a good day
for the power of a dry, hot wind.

A Mother's Prayer for Her Grown Child

One more rock
for the pile
I've been building.

My eldest son
graduated from high school
yesterday:
June 3, 2007.

The gift his class chose to give
to the school that groomed them
was a stone
for remembering.

How interesting.
So I pray

That the gift of things remembered
--the stories that might have died
in the hands of those who count themselves wise
but were instead preserved by the very hand of God--
may these stories be to your strength
in the future,
My son!

Where's Waldo?

Though they've been around a long time, polka dots are evidently seeing a resurgence in popularity in the world at large, but also in my private world. It began--for me at least--some time ago with a dream about a white horse with small black spots like measles, a black nose and dusky mane. It was trying to break out of its corral, and I was given a tool to keep it where it belonged. Ever since that dream, I've been seeing a swell in my experience of...the polka dot.

I mentioned just the other day the Bible story wherein God spoke of such dappled things: of the streaked, speckled and gray-spotted rams that theoretically belonged to Jacob while he was under the harsh and unfair authority of his uncle Laban. God drew attention to these animals as His sovereignly-given and previously designated inheritance to Jacob. "I have seen all that Laban is doing to you." God told Jacob to claim what was rightfully his, and said. "Now arise, get out of this land, and return to the land of your family." He said, "I am the God of Bethel, where you anointed the pillar (another rock pile for remembrance, taken from a place Jacob designated the Gate to Heaven) and where you made a vow to me."

What of that vow? It was made after Jacob had his dream of seeing angels ascending and descending a ladder or ramp between heaven and earth. God promised He would not leave Jacob. " 'Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have spoken to you.' Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, 'Surely the Lord is in this place and I did not know it!' " Genesis 28:14-16. In fact, last night we found ourselves in a place where such an observation of Your unexpected presence, God, could be made.

Scott won tickets to a jazz and comedy club, so we went out on a date for the evening--something we rarely have the opportunity to do any more. Now I know a lot of people who are not prone to play "Where's Waldo?" with God in unlikely arenas like the one we visited last night. Many of these folks shelter themselves on the dirt of the promised land; and even if that dirt hasn't born any fruit associated with that promise in years--dirt that in fact now sprouts a thriving crop of thorns--still, they feel safe simply based on their geography. A calling out would fall on deaf ears if it were made to them. In fact, we left two tickets unused in the package we won all because within our circle of friends we had only a few that we were sure wouldn't be offended by the potential ramblings of the comics, and those few were all busy due to the short notice of the invite. We went alone.

As for me, I love to play "Where's Waldo/Where's God?" in such an environ. I started right away, even as I made my first observations of the room while the jazz part of the evening droned seductively along. The setting was typical. Small tables, uniform in rank across the floor, were graced with common centerpieces. Like a nipple of light on the swell of a blood red breast were the candles in their glowing votives, a quiet presence on the glossy black tables. These were flanked by glittering crystal ashtrays--mostly empty in this day and age. Tall, curvy glasses were filled with frothy creams, and neglected cherries swam their depths. I turned my eyes back to the light.

There, on the small stage, the quartet worked their magic. The drummer seemed to sit at a toy kit...so small and unimpressive it was...until that drummer began to play, that is. The keyboard man was like two men in one. He had a classic look about him: tall, thin, short dred locks and a pencil-thin moustache, thick glasses and black shoes like mirrors. When he played, his right-half man was for the keyboard, and long fingers danced across it. His left-half man pulled the bass part out of a little red keyboard-box, as no real man was available to play real bass. But the sound was satisfying. The sax player's improv was engaging, and his interplay with the singer showed their unity under music over time--a mysterious thing revered by musicians, although I don't know how others perceive it. And as for the singer, the lone female in the group, she moved comfortably to the music, and my eyes were drawn to the bold and glistening rhinestone cross nestled in her cleavage. Are you here, Waldo?

All this was encompassed by portraits of comedians, hung on every wall. We made a game of naming them all. Like the Biblical cloud of witnesses, they watched in frozen black and white imagery, as their comic descendants attempted to ply the trade. One comic gave his quirky and unwitting nod to the Sermon on the Mount. "Everything's small, until its in your eye," he said, and rang his little bell that was our sign to laugh, in lieu of any inspiration the humor itself might offer. I looked at the dark ceiling, and asked again, "Are you here Waldo?" And then You showed me what I was looking for.

Polka dots were everywhere. The roving spotlights sported colored gels filtered to send polka dots of light arcing across the room's sky. Turquoise dots on navy shot through space to the left of the stage followed by yellow on violet flashing to the right of it. Green on black, lavender on red--over and over new colors splashed spots across the heavens of that room. And as I meditated on this strange firmament, I remembered two gifts I received lately, both from different people but adorned in almost identical gift bags of multi-color polka-dots. One contained coffee and a mug--a long-time symbol of grace for me, as has been outlined here before--and the other a small, modest statue of an angel whose thematic label was that it was an "angel of thanks." Grace and appreciation were extended to me under the mantle of the polka dots. Once again, You spoke and I heard in a place unexpected, a place where there were certainly no pews. Oh, I hear You in church, too, always! But I must confess, it is almost more fun to hear You in a nightclub, because so few look for You there.

So back to the vow between God and Jacob. Before we leave the topic, we must consider Jacob's side of it, as that would be our own position in a reprise playing of the story. What are its instructive purposes? Like Jacob, we went out from that Promised Land, and continue to roam, wondering when this thing comes full circle. God promised care to him. So what was Jacob's response?

" 'If God will be with me, and keep me in this way that I am going, and give me bread to eat and clothing to put on, so that I come back to my father's house in peace, then the Lord shall be my God. And this stone (the one that served for a pillow while he dreamed of the angels on the ladder to heaven) which I have set as a pillar shall be God's house, and of all that You give me I will surely give a tenth to You.' " Genesis 28:22

Lately, of this particular list of Jacob's expectations of God, we ourselves might laugh at the idea that the spots represent such a covenant offer being made to us. We can easily point to a lack on every specific item, even to the point of the anger you, my husband, felt last night at your father's unexplained refusal to visit you--even as he has written off other relatives--ones you met at a funeral. These relatives seemed genuinely sad that he chooses to be a man who shreds relationships beyond repair. And maybe it is because you reached out to them that he rejects you now, leaving it to your mother to come to visit us alone. In any case, if the spots are speaking, a covenant offered to you in the past is at this very time being affirmed to you--one arranged by a higher Father, a changeless one, one who can be found anywhere and in any circumstance. May you find the courage and faith and hope to walk into this ratification of relationship, my love.

Father's Day is coming soon, and that could be a very good thing!