Windshield

My front windshield is cracked,

has been for several months now.

Every now and again,

I have the money to fix it,

but end up spending the cash

on something else.

Yes, yes, we only have so many resources

but still

I feel this a metaphor for something:

life, probably.

The world’s problems are vast and consuming,

and we can spend all our days chasing

after all kinds of things,

that seem good and productive at the time;

or, we can spend time fixing the windshields

of our lives.

Ah, yes. I can see clearly now.

The crack is gone.

Minding the Seasons

Read: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Coming originally from Southern California, the concept of season is relatively new to me. In So. Cal we have three seasons, hot, damp, and on fire.

Now, that I live in North Carolina, especially in the mountains, I am beginning to understand them more and more.

There is spring, summer, winter, and fall. These seasons are not so much defined by a set period of time. That time changes. But each season, whenever it comes has its own distinct characteristics. There is spring, the season of new life; summer, the season of extroversion, of growth and vigor; there is fall, the season of fading and cooling; and there is winter, the season of sleep, darkness, and remembrance. All of these are necessary, especially if you grow plants.

My wife is growing a garden. She could tell you: there is a time to plant, a time to water; a time to harvest, and a time to let the soil rest. Not to mention the season where you rotate the crops and let certain patches of ground alone. All these are for the good of the harvest. We heed them to our betterment. We ignore them to our loss. All these seasons have things which must get done. And of course no one season has total claim on all the things. There are elements of all of them in all of them.

As you go through life, know that you, like the Earth and the plants that grow on it, live life in seasons. This is natural and good. We are not static creatures. Look around you. Identify and mind the season you are in. Find peace in the season you are in. And, of course, when the time comes, have a very happy harvest.

Agape

I love that the Greek word for God’s love for us is agápē

Because, when you remove all the markers above the letters,

you get agape-

like mouth agape, heart agape, mind agape,

wide open.

God’s love for us is so beyond our comprehension

that it should leave us with our jaw hanging down,

we ought to be scratching our heads and

falling to our knees in awe of it.

Likewise, when we love like He loves,

we should illicit the same response.

Forget countercultural.

We’re talking blow-your-mind awesome.

Our love should be so righteous, so pure,

so unexpectedly right

that it leaves a mark, makes a difference,

changes the world, if only a little bit.

There, my friends, is our benchmark.

Time to thrive.

 

Multifaceted You

Don’t tell yourself you’re changing

Not counting a serious life event,

you’ll always be you.

The expression may change and that’s it.

Just have fun.

And if you ever tell yourself I’ve got nothing to offer,

refer back to the first segment.

And play around with it!

The expression of your unique combination of genes

and experiences may astound even you.

Like Dandelions

The stage is set,

the audience is arriving, sitting down

We are undressing, redressing, getting into character

assuming our roles

Jim calls time and I take the stage, talk to the people

See how their day is, make them grow comfortable

Soon it’s time to go, I give the signal, we start to act

There are hula hoop performance, salsa dances,

excerpts from Joyce and Chekov

The living statue gives an erotic monologue

I sing a song, have my heart broken

and it’s all okay, all good

Tonight we’ll do it again

Then it’s curtain call,

we take a bow.

The audience cheers, we depart for the yellow room

They depart, we change

back into our normal selves, whatever that means

We talk with those who stay behind, clean up,

celebrate our victories, recap anything weird that might have happened

linger in the foyer, not wanting leaving

absorbing all the post-play magic that we can.

Then there are hugs and well wishes,

we get in our cars, we drive off

The next morning, when it’s not a theater night

A strange sense of loss consumes me

a grasping at the wind,

but theater is a moment, and eventually the place will cease its run

and all will move on

like Dandelions

The work never ends

God of life and passion and everything good,

bless my friends as they go on their way.

The Death of Beauty

“hey beautiful” he says

or

“hey sexy”

or something like that.

It’s a no-win situation:

say “thanks”

and they consider it a come-on

say nothing

and they consider it an insult

It’s a rock and a hard place,

“it’s a trap!” as Ackbar would say.

And that is the day when beauty dies,

when so complimentary a word

becomes an instrument of coercion.