The Warrior's tale resumes
Preface
...given as something of an ode to Obed, who begat Jesse, who begat David--but who first had an aged grandmother, one who by strange providence brought his mother to join the people of God. What lengths, O God, will you take. This is a wonder and a thing of joy.
Thank you, that when I look at that melting glacier, I think to ask: how far away is the flower that will be watered by that molecule of water I see sparkling in the sun?
And this wonder only considered as it is inspired by the likes of such wisdom poetry as is found in Job 38: 22, 28, and 29
Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail...
Hath the rain a father? or who hath begotten the drops of dew?
Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it?
So the story continues:
Though a practiced wayfarer, his appearance still raises questions
as he has become as legendary as was the land he once sought.
But that was many years before this day.
Now it is he that is spoken of in wide-eyed whispers...
How long did this man walk in the rain?
And, where did he find the cave of miracles?
Was it on high ground, where the permafrost crackles?
Where for so many generations has the frost of heaven lain.
Was it where billow crashes upon billow, unrelenting?
Where for so many generations has the deep been strong.
Was it in that enigmatic place where restraint flaps loosely while the remnant dragons soar?
Where for so many generations emptiness has hung full of stars,
stars whose birth names only God knows.
(For was it ever really given to man to name such as these after all?)
How long did the man follow the shining line?
One foot in the water; one on the land
and the sparkle between....
And always back to this: where did he find that cave of miracles?
But find it he did, and kept its secrets.
(To his credit, if the path were so easily shared,
wouldn't we all go down it?)
Some say twas but a child that served to guide him,
leaving him only when he went crawling into the cold recesses.
You must be born again--of water and spirit,
he heard the wind hiss behind him,
outside that narrow cavern.
Born again--
one said to be first the offspring
of father rain,
and mother ice,
now predestined for new birth.
And if new birth, then certainly new life as well.
He wondered what its complexion would be.
He thought on such things
until he found that womb of ancient fore-telling;
and it was a room where alcoves glittered
in strange ethereal light
and concave rocks cradled morsels reflective,
gems of ice, clear and bright.
He ran his hands through them
like a pirate would his doubloons.
And the mother who received these wind-blown nuggets
that landed by design within her, who would birth them
into mountain streams--
she whispered to him there:
Before the depths of waters,
yea, before the fountains flashing
Before the likes of these small promises were given,
I was brought forth.
And--now that I am soon to be flesh of their flesh
in that great day of melting--
Now I ask of you:
shall I send forth my little rivers
on your behalf?
And he ran his fingers through the crystals,
knowing the answer he gave would be a far greater strain
than any he'd known finding his way here.
He looked in the place of the unseen,
and there he saw even his arm become as ice.
Patiently, she'd waited,
preserving these hidden ice-diamonds
for the day of his arrival.
Patiently, she waited still
for the moment of his answer.
All the years he'd thought to be a warrior
and all the years there after, when he'd forgotten as much...
both lives reflected up at him--
the palaces they could have haunted, could even still
these were a multitude of faces glittering in his hand.
When finally, he was ready, his face showed his suprise,
for he discovered his destiny had always been
that of a warrior after all.
He lifted his gaze from the prisms of light in his hand,
ready to give her an answer.
"Make it so," he said.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
On Having Conversations with God...
He spoke first, because in these things, He always speaks first. And for this woman, He starts most conversations with a dream:
My Kingdom is like this even as it becomes the kingdom of this world, it is like a woman who stands visiting most companionably with another woman who in real life is but a mere acquaintance. In the dream, the two of them are standing in a kitchen where this acquaintenance-become-friend has been preparing food, when suddenly the dreamer's body becomes as a fountain and begins spraying water everywhere. The dreamer says to the woman cooking, "This will never do because these coats will get wet if they stay in here with me." Indeed, a coatrack on wheels with many uniform coats hanging along both its poles stands in the middle of the room. So the woman and her friend decide to move the coats into an adjoining room, one they can see through an interior window. So they do move the coats, and then they peer through the window to see the state of the coats in their new environment. The coats remain dry in this other room, so the women are satisfied with their work.
More things happened after these events in this dream, but for now it is enough to say that the woman assumed what she always assumes when these conversations begin: she assumed that when the time came for her to understand the parable, the conversation would resume.
So months went by and the woman practically forgot the dream that started this particular interaction, until one day, He came whispering in her ear:
Have you noticed that you have "strangely" come to be deep prayer partners with this very woman I showed you in that dream some time ago? This very day you are "there" in the place where the vision and the reality meet.
And the dreamer caught her breath, in a sudden flash remembering the dream and realizing that a marker in time had been inserted into both the dream and her life, a marker in the form of this friendship with this woman. So she returned to the dream, visiting it again in her mind. She asked friends to pray with her, even this very woman. Also, she prayed for herself:
Oh, God. Help me know how I am to live this next part. How am I to know what these coats are? What is the water that issues forth from me? What do I do as this parable moves into reality?
So He led her to verses:
Psa 36:9
For with thee [is] the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light.
Pro 13:14
The law of the wise [is] a fountain of life, to depart from the snares of death.
Pro 14:27
The fear of the LORD [is] a fountain of life, to depart from the snares of death.
Rev 21:6
And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.
And she began to realize that the water was wisdom that would issue forth from her, and it was how she would be for a gift and a judgment somehow, but these were yet beyond her ability to measure.
All the more she prayed:
Oh, God, what are the coats, for they come next? How am I to know when I move them? And, I must know what they are before I can move forward?
And He said, "You need to know more than that, for you are not yet fully aware of the part about the water. First you must understand more than just what the water is, but also how it is in you."
So the dreamer stopped trying to race forward, remembering the stress-free leisure of her God, and she began to study more on the water. She began to meditate the life that is not just a fountain but also a gift. She thought of herself and what might be the value she carried to the One who would give such a gift, and slowly she began to see where she is still lacking--for in a word, her definition of "gift" was marred. Her husband has told her this many times, but only now does she begin to see it for herself: she is a woman who feels "unworthy" of gifts unless they somehow benefit others as well as herself; or she is uncomfortable receiving them unless they are simply the giving of something she would need to get anyway, a survival item, that can be "called" a gift because it comes at a time when a gift is most commonly deemed fitting, a holiday or birthday, etc. So she begins to consider what it would be like to receive a gift that needed no other benefit than to please her, no secondary gain for anyone else. And the thought was a wonder to her, even as she questioned whether such consideration meant she was opening an agreement with selfishness in her heart. So she said this to her God:
You are right. I do need to consider more deeply what it means for me to be a fountain. This is a blind spot for me. Am I turning toward You or away from You in this train of thought? The sense I got in the dream was that I was nearly bursting with the water. I could not contain it, nor even direct its flow because I was so full to overflowing with that water. I was not so much a channel for the water to flow through as a container under pressure from which it had no choice but to spray. If something were to be "exempt" from receiving the wisdom that would issue forth from me like water, then the only option was to completely remove it from my presence. Is that right, God? Am I on the right track?
And that very night as the dreamer sat reading before going to bed, she happened upon the following quote, which was His confirmation and answer to her question, in the words of both the dream He gave her and of Bernard of Clairvaux:
If you are wise, you will show yourself rather as a reservoir than a canal. A canal spreads abroad water as it receives it, but a reservoir waits until it is filled before overflowing, and thus without loss to itself [it shares] its superabundant waters."
So today she waits as the reservoir fills, and in the meantime, considers some of the many other conversations between herself and her God.
My Kingdom is like this even as it becomes the kingdom of this world, it is like a woman who stands visiting most companionably with another woman who in real life is but a mere acquaintance. In the dream, the two of them are standing in a kitchen where this acquaintenance-become-friend has been preparing food, when suddenly the dreamer's body becomes as a fountain and begins spraying water everywhere. The dreamer says to the woman cooking, "This will never do because these coats will get wet if they stay in here with me." Indeed, a coatrack on wheels with many uniform coats hanging along both its poles stands in the middle of the room. So the woman and her friend decide to move the coats into an adjoining room, one they can see through an interior window. So they do move the coats, and then they peer through the window to see the state of the coats in their new environment. The coats remain dry in this other room, so the women are satisfied with their work.
More things happened after these events in this dream, but for now it is enough to say that the woman assumed what she always assumes when these conversations begin: she assumed that when the time came for her to understand the parable, the conversation would resume.
So months went by and the woman practically forgot the dream that started this particular interaction, until one day, He came whispering in her ear:
Have you noticed that you have "strangely" come to be deep prayer partners with this very woman I showed you in that dream some time ago? This very day you are "there" in the place where the vision and the reality meet.
And the dreamer caught her breath, in a sudden flash remembering the dream and realizing that a marker in time had been inserted into both the dream and her life, a marker in the form of this friendship with this woman. So she returned to the dream, visiting it again in her mind. She asked friends to pray with her, even this very woman. Also, she prayed for herself:
Oh, God. Help me know how I am to live this next part. How am I to know what these coats are? What is the water that issues forth from me? What do I do as this parable moves into reality?
So He led her to verses:
Psa 36:9
For with thee [is] the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light.
Pro 13:14
The law of the wise [is] a fountain of life, to depart from the snares of death.
Pro 14:27
The fear of the LORD [is] a fountain of life, to depart from the snares of death.
Rev 21:6
And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.
And she began to realize that the water was wisdom that would issue forth from her, and it was how she would be for a gift and a judgment somehow, but these were yet beyond her ability to measure.
All the more she prayed:
Oh, God, what are the coats, for they come next? How am I to know when I move them? And, I must know what they are before I can move forward?
And He said, "You need to know more than that, for you are not yet fully aware of the part about the water. First you must understand more than just what the water is, but also how it is in you."
So the dreamer stopped trying to race forward, remembering the stress-free leisure of her God, and she began to study more on the water. She began to meditate the life that is not just a fountain but also a gift. She thought of herself and what might be the value she carried to the One who would give such a gift, and slowly she began to see where she is still lacking--for in a word, her definition of "gift" was marred. Her husband has told her this many times, but only now does she begin to see it for herself: she is a woman who feels "unworthy" of gifts unless they somehow benefit others as well as herself; or she is uncomfortable receiving them unless they are simply the giving of something she would need to get anyway, a survival item, that can be "called" a gift because it comes at a time when a gift is most commonly deemed fitting, a holiday or birthday, etc. So she begins to consider what it would be like to receive a gift that needed no other benefit than to please her, no secondary gain for anyone else. And the thought was a wonder to her, even as she questioned whether such consideration meant she was opening an agreement with selfishness in her heart. So she said this to her God:
You are right. I do need to consider more deeply what it means for me to be a fountain. This is a blind spot for me. Am I turning toward You or away from You in this train of thought? The sense I got in the dream was that I was nearly bursting with the water. I could not contain it, nor even direct its flow because I was so full to overflowing with that water. I was not so much a channel for the water to flow through as a container under pressure from which it had no choice but to spray. If something were to be "exempt" from receiving the wisdom that would issue forth from me like water, then the only option was to completely remove it from my presence. Is that right, God? Am I on the right track?
And that very night as the dreamer sat reading before going to bed, she happened upon the following quote, which was His confirmation and answer to her question, in the words of both the dream He gave her and of Bernard of Clairvaux:
If you are wise, you will show yourself rather as a reservoir than a canal. A canal spreads abroad water as it receives it, but a reservoir waits until it is filled before overflowing, and thus without loss to itself [it shares] its superabundant waters."
So today she waits as the reservoir fills, and in the meantime, considers some of the many other conversations between herself and her God.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Strength Renewed
My eldest son finished college for the summer on Friday, so he came home from his first year of college with the help of my husband who went to collect him and all his gear. My son's best friend also finished his first year of college this weekend, and my husband collected him and his gear too as their separate universities were on a straight trajectory from our home. I spoke to hubby on the phone as he was driving home and the two boys were tooling along behind in my son's beater Olds.
"I hope I stay conscious until I get there," said my husband.
Alarmed, I asked what he meant.
"I'm wedged in here so tightly with all this junk I can only take very shallow breathes, and I'm afraid I'll pass out," he said dryly. But all made it home safe and sound.
Now this weekend in our home are resting these two boys, my other two younger sons, my husband and one of his own best friends from his youth--yes, all of them are in our abode this weekend. A monsoon of testosterone. But so far I'm really enjoying watching the boys be boys, bickering about sports and politics and the economy... All I have to do is now and then throw out a stern, "Don't you tear up my throw pillows!" when they're wrestling as I write the grocery shopping list for stuff like brats and charcoal. All I have to do is holler "Don't forget we have church tomorrow!" as the four older ones head out the door for a father and adult-son type of night out, and I find I can hold my own alright.
Today, though, when we went to church, I was reminded once more how much we unwittingly influence the lives of others. I'm speaking of my oldest son's best friend and the influence I've had on his life. Maybe it was because my son's friend became his friend at my unction--as I was 7th-grade math teacher to both of them and thought they'd make good friends for each other, even though at the time they were half-appalled at my suggestion and didn't see my perspective on it at all; they were both 12 at the time. Maybe it was because this boy then ended up being a large part of our family's life and of my son's life from then on. Maybe it was because today is very nearly Mother's Day and is also near to this young man's own years-estranged mother's birthday. Maybe is was because of bits and pieces of all of these, but whatever the "because" might be, as we sang songs of worship standing there in the softly lit sanctuary, as I swayed and sang and smiled to God, I suddenly found myself pulled into an embrace. Surprised, I looked up and found this one so nearly like another son to me had tears streaming down his face as he impulsively grabbed me in that bear hug...a thing all the more poignant seeing he is a rather reserved young man generally speaking.
I've had a surprised sort of warmth in my heart all afternoon. When I consider all the young men I've known in my adult life--and that's a considerable number since I've spent my whole career-life teaching kids--of all of this parade of young men, I've never met one so pervasively afflicted with hardship and rejection over many years, well near all the years of his life. Never have I known one so stripped of the things most people consider to be psychological/spiritual necessities for a sane life. But he is not bitter, and he is not resentful. He does not go mysteriously out of his way to defeat himself, and so he beats the odds; for this young man isn't doing all the things statistics say he "should" be doing, rather he is moved to tears when given the opportunity to be alongside an almost-mom of his when she stands worshipping her God. And I know that while he is unique, he is certainly not completely unique. There are others like him, we just don't get to hear their stories very often, and so I commemorate his on behalf of all their stories.
While I can not say exactly what was in his mind...for by the time church was over, the moment had passed and the big boys were soon just big boys playing video games again; still...I have no doubt that the angels' strength was renewed for yet another day of their invisible spiritual work and warfare on our behalf, inspired by the sight of such a thing in the house of God!
"I hope I stay conscious until I get there," said my husband.
Alarmed, I asked what he meant.
"I'm wedged in here so tightly with all this junk I can only take very shallow breathes, and I'm afraid I'll pass out," he said dryly. But all made it home safe and sound.
Now this weekend in our home are resting these two boys, my other two younger sons, my husband and one of his own best friends from his youth--yes, all of them are in our abode this weekend. A monsoon of testosterone. But so far I'm really enjoying watching the boys be boys, bickering about sports and politics and the economy... All I have to do is now and then throw out a stern, "Don't you tear up my throw pillows!" when they're wrestling as I write the grocery shopping list for stuff like brats and charcoal. All I have to do is holler "Don't forget we have church tomorrow!" as the four older ones head out the door for a father and adult-son type of night out, and I find I can hold my own alright.
Today, though, when we went to church, I was reminded once more how much we unwittingly influence the lives of others. I'm speaking of my oldest son's best friend and the influence I've had on his life. Maybe it was because my son's friend became his friend at my unction--as I was 7th-grade math teacher to both of them and thought they'd make good friends for each other, even though at the time they were half-appalled at my suggestion and didn't see my perspective on it at all; they were both 12 at the time. Maybe it was because this boy then ended up being a large part of our family's life and of my son's life from then on. Maybe it was because today is very nearly Mother's Day and is also near to this young man's own years-estranged mother's birthday. Maybe is was because of bits and pieces of all of these, but whatever the "because" might be, as we sang songs of worship standing there in the softly lit sanctuary, as I swayed and sang and smiled to God, I suddenly found myself pulled into an embrace. Surprised, I looked up and found this one so nearly like another son to me had tears streaming down his face as he impulsively grabbed me in that bear hug...a thing all the more poignant seeing he is a rather reserved young man generally speaking.
I've had a surprised sort of warmth in my heart all afternoon. When I consider all the young men I've known in my adult life--and that's a considerable number since I've spent my whole career-life teaching kids--of all of this parade of young men, I've never met one so pervasively afflicted with hardship and rejection over many years, well near all the years of his life. Never have I known one so stripped of the things most people consider to be psychological/spiritual necessities for a sane life. But he is not bitter, and he is not resentful. He does not go mysteriously out of his way to defeat himself, and so he beats the odds; for this young man isn't doing all the things statistics say he "should" be doing, rather he is moved to tears when given the opportunity to be alongside an almost-mom of his when she stands worshipping her God. And I know that while he is unique, he is certainly not completely unique. There are others like him, we just don't get to hear their stories very often, and so I commemorate his on behalf of all their stories.
While I can not say exactly what was in his mind...for by the time church was over, the moment had passed and the big boys were soon just big boys playing video games again; still...I have no doubt that the angels' strength was renewed for yet another day of their invisible spiritual work and warfare on our behalf, inspired by the sight of such a thing in the house of God!
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