Easter Yellow

Yellow has always felt like the color of Easter to me. 

Like rays of sun from the sky above, signalling re-emergence,

the bounty of life on earth

and Life within from a spirit-renewed.

Fully Occupied with Growing

all lines from The Metier of Blossoming by Denise Levertov

Growing especially at night; it would take even a bit more patience than I've got, to sit keeping watch 'til daylight; the naked eye could register every hour's increase in height.

One morning --- and so soon! --- the first flower has opened when you wake.  Or you catch it in a single, brief moment of hesitation.

If humans could be that intensely whole, undistracted, unhurried, swift from sheer impetus!

If we could blossom out of ourselves, giving nothing imperfect, withholding nothing!



Budding for Bloom

There are so many things that are change these days.  Change is all around and nowhere is this more evident than in the skyward extended branches of the trees, bushes, and brambles here in Washington.  Little tufts of new life.  Most of it pink.  Some of it purple.  And then there is yellow, occassionally.

~~~

Leviticus 26: 1 - 4

"Ye shall make you no idols nor graven image, neither rear you up a standing image, neither shall ye set up any image of stone in your land, to bow down unto it: for I am the LORD your God.  Ye shall keep my sabbaths, and reverence my sanctuary: I am the LORD.  If ye walk in my statutes, and keep my commandments, and do them; Then I will give you rain in due season, and the land shall yield her increase, and the trees of the field shall yield their fruit."

The Furry Bambino

Sometimes he is my best subject.  Although it's really difficult trying ot get him to stand still for too long.  This little guy has so much energy it's crazy.

Of course, as I type this, he's lying down next to me, against my leg, being a patient and loyal supporter of everything I do.  Including posting this photo of him.  Because he has a huge ego.

It's true.



Thinking about...

The wedding...and repotting this plant. Poor thing.

What Runs through our Veins

We call our kin - blood. 

What is this life that runs through our veins?

~

"For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an

atonement for your souls: for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul."

Leviticus 17:11

The Unseen

I believe in days punctuated by thankfulness, by fullness, and the complicit giving of our time and our bodies to the Lord for restoration through the dark hours of night. 

This so we may look up at the sky the next day in fear, trembling, and overflowing with love.

"I lift my eyes up, up to the heavens, where does my help come from?

My help comes from you, maker of heaven, creator of the earth."

I feel so fortunate to witness, with these imperfect eyes, what the Lord allows me to see, as well as the things he keeps from me: the unseen.

Where do hearts break? 

When do shadows fall? 

Whose anger thumps loudly against the heat of the earth?

~

Where is the space between a hug?

When do smiling faces turn toward one another?

Whose little feet bounce rythmically against mama's lap?

Dare I thank you more today than yesterday?  And how much moreso tomorrow?  I can only dream of what the close of my last day here on your earth will bring.  What fullness my heart will feel, and what gladness for every blessing, both seen and unseen.

Pbbbt

President's Day is drawing to a close and we'll be back to work tomorrow. Pooka has something to say about that...she will miss us dearly.

Love Lyrics

I watched last year's Jane Eyre this evening and my heart is adrift in the muck of romanticism and the flight of a soul on the wings of passion.  So I plucked an old book from my shelf - one given to me over ten years ago that I still treasure.  It is a beautiful book indeed.  Its binding and printing, something of a marvel to me all these years.  Mostly due to the red and black, two-tone printing which I presumed a rarity for the print date: 1905.  The "life pictures" are also a thing of simultaneous amusement and captive dreaming for me whenever I pick it up.  I am doubtful now, that either of these things truly made this a needle in the haystack of the Bay Area used book marketplace, but I delight in it none-the-less.

To-night, against my pillow, with shut eyes,

I mean to weld our faces - through the dense

Incalculable darkness make pretense

That she has risen from her reveries

To mate her dreams with mine in marriages

Of mellow palms, smooth faces, and tense ease

Of every longing nerve of indolence, -

Lift from the graver her quiet lips, and stun

My senses with her kisses - drawl the glee

Of her glad mouth, full blithe and tenderly,

Across mine own, forgetful if is done

The old love's awful dawn-time when said we,

"To-day is ours!" . . . . Ah, Heaven! can it be

She has forgotten me - forgotten me!

Clefted and Covered

There is nothing we can say or do, no gesture on our part that can save us from ourselves.  The only credit in our favor is that we have been chosen: covered by the eternal and perfect love of our Savior.  The blanket of His love lays smooth against our jagged edges - our crevices and vacant ravines filled and evenly matched against our parts and pieces which He christened useful for our time here.  Accepting that our failings and flailings are a part of His plan for us to reach out and pull His love around us - to shroud us, comfort and protect us, is often more difficult than using our peaks and relying on what we think is our own strength instead of trusting in the completeness of the story written for our life, before our life, clefted inasmuch as we are.