Awareness

There are those moments that overwhelm us, that lay our pettiness and our fears bare. They are not always well controlled - sometimes, they come unbidden of ourselves, but of conversations we have with others, the flicker of a petal on a flower, the off-taste broccoli that suddenly brings us back to food we were eating.

In some cases, it is a denial of what we perhaps know in our heart of hearts, but are afraid to admit in in the light of day.

In other cases, it is a willing admission of that which perhaps we should in fact keep hidden, but blurt out into the hidden darkness of others' souls.

How is it that such things rest so lightly with us, seeing that they have such power to harm or help? How is it that such pettiness, fears, and wrath lie within us, ready to spring forth only to work harm on ourselves or others? And how strange it is that all around us, others bear the same pockets within them?

Spring Moon

Buttery yellow,
The moon melts, gently sliding
across the March hills.

Reminders of Answered Prayer

So yesterday, the Ravishing Mrs. TB calls me over and says "Listen to the van when it starts." Sure enough, there's a sound, like something hitting something right when it starts. Ironically, I had received my bonus on Friday. Grumbling about expenses rising to meet income, we set up to drop the car off at our mechanic's today.

Which we did - after adding in a brake check, oil rotation, and tire change. I was muttering to myself as I drove everyone home in the Escort about how there was little enough for my own wants, but enough to cover these "emergencies".

And then it hit me tonight - a great deal hit me tonight:
1) The bonus came just in time to deal with this (along with our tax refund) - besides which we had the money to pay off one card and make a significant payment on the other.
2) It also gave us the funds to do things like fix the sewing machine, fix the Ravishing Mrs. TB's bike, and buy a new printer.
3) We also have a third car - The Fabulous Ford F250 - that we have as a backup instead of having to shuffle with one car.
4) Most amazing to me was the sudden realization that we had prayed for the Ravishing Mrs. TB to be able to quit the job she was doing last year to spend more time with the family. She did, on faith - and we have made more than we did with her working.

Who am I to complain about a little thing like a noisy van?

Shortcuts Make Long Delays

I had a dream last night which has started a rather reflective (and potentially depressing) thought process for a Palm Sunday.

In this dream, I was visiting someone I knew in grade school, someone that I have not seen for 25 years. Apparently, as part of my visit, we were reviewing a scrapbook he had made. His comment to me was "This is a look over the last 20 years of my life."

I woke up, but being that I had not slept well anyway, began to lay there in the early morning dark and began to make a mental comparison of the last 20 years. Let's see: 20 years ago (1988), I was in my second full semester at Humboldt State. My process of wandering had not started yet, but was about to accelerate.

Looking back over the intervening period of time was not much better. Yes, I know that 0430 is not the time to be thinking about anything of import (at least, not while you have had no sleep) because one magnifies the errors and minimizes the positives, but I am still hard pressed to explain all the things I did. In some cases, the errors of yesterday are finally being worked out and made right today (I'm a believer in the theory that in order to advance, you've first got to stop your direction, make a U-turn, and get back to point where you made the detour. Shortcuts across country to make up time lead to long delays.). But still, what might have been accomplished had those journeys which I took been replaced by things of greater worth (As Aslan says to a character in The Silver Chair in response to the question "May I know what would have happened if I obeyed?", "What would have happened? Child, no-one is ever permitted to to know that."

The good points and good impacts I've made are there as well, and I'm neither so foolish nor so arrogant to suppose that there are none. But I feel like Robert Murry McCheyne saying "Not a trait worth remembering! And yet these four and twenty hours must be accounted for." Time is going forward, not backwards - may the next 20 years leave me with less to regret and more to look forward to.

Growing Up

Nighean gheal and I had an interesting conversation on the drive up to The Ranch yesterday. It started by her asking why older girls didn't play with toys so much. I responded that I wasn't sure, but it was not as if they didn't play - they played sports, which was a form of game. She agreed, then asked why grownups didn't play and why some got serious and boring when they grew up.

I didn't have a really good answer to that - and I don't know that I do.

Why do we not play as adults? Why are we - let's be specific, I - so much like what my daughter points out, serious and boring?

I could make the argument that one has to be serious and "boring" as an adult, because of the responsibilities that one must undertake. But do responsibilities means a lack of fun and play?

I suppose I could also point out that I have "lost" that point of view as a result of life - but again, much of that loss was by my own choice. I craved to be thought of as an "adult" without thinking as to what all that entailed.

Christ Himself encouraged us to be "Wise as serpents and innocent as doves" (Matthew 10:17), and Pauls himself notes we are to use the time we are provided with wisely (Ephesians 5:15; Colossians 4:5). But wisdom is not the same as serious, and innocence in no was implies boring.

For those who say, "Well, if we were are all playful and not serious, what shape would the world be in?", the answer (not original to myself) is "What shape is the world in now?"

Is play, fun, and a zest for living in opposition to serious and responsible? Or is this a construct of my own mind? Perhaps the place to start is to determine what we take seriously, and why - or what will truly matter five years hence, ten years hence - indeed, eternity hence - and what is merely paper mache, which will have no impact beyond that of making us feel important rather than being of import.

Bees and Weather

I am always set at ease when I come up to the Ranch, a sense of sloughing off my concerns and problems to be surrounded by nature and thought. This time, beyond the anticipated green of oncoming spring, I had a second goal - check the bees.

The weather was not co-operative. Ideally, one wants a warm day, one in which the bees will be out and active (thus less in the hive). I hemmed and hawed as the cloudy day gradually overtook the sun, then broke down and took my chance.

The bees are fine. I only did the upper deep, as in removing frame I broke some of the burr comb which had larvae. The bees were active, larvae were present (indicating the queen was there at least five days ago), and honey and pollen were present. No sense in stirring things up more than necessary. I sealed them back in, their little black eyes and heads staring at me from between the frames.

And good thing that I did check them then. After that, the weather turned no better: it hailed, snowed, and rained, the sun never making more than a brief appearance, the blue sky currently just appearing as a bold blue slash among the gray clouds.

But even in this otherwise winter day, looking out over the upper meadow, I see a cheery patch of yellow daffodils peering through the bare branches of an oak, a single dead brown leaf waving back and forth, slightly blocking them then bringing them into sight.

Even as winter slowly goes, spring breaks through the background in glorious color.

Sunset at the Divide

Pink streaks amidst gray:
Orange and yellow embers shine
on brush green canyons.

Tilting at Windmills

Tilting at windmills,
My gift of spring is overcome
By commercial blooms.

Tilting at windmills,
My gift of commerical blooms
Is overcome by food

Good Morning!

Above grey cloud's head,
A morning star sings its song
As dark blue dawn waits.

Pink petals are out, white petals are in

In the gradual moving of the season, most of the pink petals - fruitless plums, I believe -are quickly blowing away in the wind. They are now being vividly replaced by white blossoms from other trees (of what kind, I have no idea). They have a characteristic odor of themselves, but are different in that they are mixed in among the leaves.

Spring is well nigh upon us - good from my point of view, as I am looking forward to the bees harvesting their nectar and pollen. Another fine example of a hobby changing how one views life: I cannot think of paying more than a passing attention to such things before, but now I notice them everywhere: the brilliance of the yellow wild mustard (it is everywhere on my commute now), the gentle pre-burst of the ornamental manzinita at our office park (which is good, as there is more manizinita at the Ranch, which makes for good honey - although I have always viewed the stuff as a fire hazard!), the brilliant green of the grass. It is especially scenic driving home from work (when it's actually light), seeing the yellow mustard swaying in the afternoon sun, framed against the emerald green grass amidst the brown trunks of grape vines, preparing their spring burst even now.

It is one of those moments where the entire creation sings in one glorious opening chorus to it's Creator - a strangely appropriate and moving thing in this Easter season, when we celebrate the victory of Christ over death and sin. It's as if, this year, creation raises up the reminder of new life after death even as it prepares for another year of fruitful living.

A Quick Morning Thought

How does one decide what one wants to be out of the plethora of possiblities of what could be?

Silence

A silent moment - one child in bed, two away, and the Ravishing Mrs. TB off at a class. It's unusual to have this during the evening. The only sounds I hear are the muted sound of traffic, the low buzz of my laptop as it operates, and an occassional bubble from the fish tank.

I like silence - actually prefer it, in many cases. It's good for thinking. It's also good for praying, reading, and simply being. It' s an overused cliche to say that we live in a noise filled society, but in some cases they are cliches simply because they reflect reality. From my car's road noise, even if the radio is off, to the din of an office, to the noises of a typical house with children, my day is filled with noise. And that doesn't include the things that we often add as background noise just to fill the silence: music, TV, even listening to the mindless blather of others simply to fill the void.

Perhaps we don't like silence because, deeply felt, it reminds us of the fears of dying - or perhaps it reminds us of the emptiness we have in ourselves. It just strikes me as odd that something so seemingly useful is abhorred by so many.

Sauerkraut and Lemonade

This weekend was one of those that involved working with the world: mowing and edging (my lawn as well as Nighean Dhonn's preschool), overseeding, and using some of what we grew: cutting cabbage for sauerkraut, making lemonade and orange juice from my in-laws lemons and oranges, shelling our corn from last year for culling, saving and planting (and cornbread).

There is something subtle yet satisfying - I don't know what - about using foods that you know were they came from, especially those that were grown by you. It is the satisfaction that, at some level, every gardener, livestock owner, farmer, or brewer/viticulturalist feels when eating their own food. It is the full end of the cycle: you, in concert with nature, helped to grow and raise this food. You known what went into it. You know where it came from. It is like earning a salary at the end of a pay period, but better - you can't directly eat a salary (but you can eat a celery purchased with your salary).

It is, I suppose, what calls people to garden or farm or raise grapes or rabbits or whatever: that call that I can work with nature and produce something of use.

Spring Haze

Under icy wisps
White puffs float above green wheat:
Snow on Sierras.

Two Haikus

Thinking to hear snaps
Pink petals feel damp and cool:
My dreams float in wind.

In spring time runoff,
White Heron stately searches
for lunch in brown lake.

Chasing DT

You do not know me,
nor would I wish you too,
as there is a certain joy in anonymity.
You are what I perceive as desirable,
or are you?
Do I mistake you for the thing that you represent,
the thing that I truly desire?
In seeking passion, do I confuse it with and settle for desire?

You do not know me,
but perhaps,
I do not know myself.

Spring

Pink snow waits, then moves,
as brown spindly clouds make more.
Look: Spring has Arrived

Agape

One thing that I have always found difficult about the concept of agape love is how does one keep it from becoming a duty, something one must do?

Agape, if you're not familiar, is the love that we as Christians are called to express to one another. It's the love Christ has for us. It represents a commitment of the will to do the best for the other person, regardless of how one feels. This is in contrast to the other 3 words for love in Greek - Phileo (affection), Storge (Easiest definition is the kind of love friends share), and Eros (Sexual love).

Agape, as the Bible defines it, is the love which is represented by Christ's love towards us: committed to sacrificing Himself on the Cross for the forgiveness of sins. He counted the cost - and went forward.

The struggle I have is that so often agape becomes like a duty. We do things because we made a commitment, because we are committed to the best for others, no matter the cost to ourselves. The point that always breaks over my head is "This is will - but where is emotion?"

At one time I used to be the proverbial "Hopeless Romantic" - at least until I was 23. Then, I had a really bad relational experience, one that left me personally embarrassed and heart. It's odd, but I time out my loss of "emotional romantic love" - that kind of gooey, breathless feeling - to that date. Doesn't mean I haven't had emotion, doesn't mean that I don't love the Ravishing Mrs. TB and the children - but it makes me I've lost something from time to time.

This plays into my first thought, as what at one time might have been done for emotion is now done as a choice of the will. The genesis may be very well different as well - wanting the good for the other, rather than how it makes one feel. The rub comes in that with the second kind, the payback is generally self evident in the process i.e. I give flowers, my wife responds, we have a pleasant evening. In the other place, one may well do something that it a good, and it goes unnoticed or unappreciated - yet in the benefit to the other, one chooses to do the loving thing. Yet without the immediate emotional payback, and continuing to do it, it becomes much more like something which must be done.

I don't have an answer - but sometimes I wonder, where that emotional romantic chap went to...

Thoughts on a Tree by the Road

On a gnarled branch
White blossoms float in sunrise:
Springtime in darkness.

Old Friends

Last night I had one of the pleasures that only comes occassionally in this life: introducing my good friends to each other.

We had a Leap Day Party yesterday. Amongst the participants were Uisdean Ruadh and Bogha Frois (As an added benefit, Bogha Frois brought L'Acadien with her). Bogha Frois actually arrived as most of the people were leaving, so we had another good two hours together.

There is simply nothing more delightful than introducing old friends to one another. You get to relive the stories of years and years and actually have someone that hasn't heard them. Generally, if they are your friends, you all have the similar tastes, so you can all laugh together. And as everyone knows, the old stories really are the best stories.

Is this a foretaste of Heaven? Will meeting those that have gone on in victory be the same, sharing stories of our Lord on the battlefield, all united in the love for and mercy of Him?

If it is this pleasurable on earth, what will Heaven be like?