Advent 1: Packaging

It's here. The season many love and others dread. This year, more perhaps than others, a frisson of apprehension or excitement surrounds the close of all the lost hopes, upset dreams, and upside down life that this year held. Christmas lights came up early as if families are trying to hasten the inevitable by bright bulbs that do little to dispel the darkness. Bing Crosby croons his way through the shopping malls as retail stores endeavour vainly to recapture the traditional time when red gives way to black.

In the darkness of a Bethlehem night a gift came, the greatest gift, yet the packaging affronted all the expectations this advent entailed. Emmanuel came. The world He came to rejected Him. We reject Him still. He came serving, challenging, convicting. We want nice packages wrapped in bows, pats on the back and a host of good feelings. He came with a sword to divide. Everything He is we desperately need and yet we push Him away, demanding that He come on our terms. Turning to the lives spread around us, we distance from them as well. Choosing our safe isolation not realising that resiliency and strength are born through adversity. To lay down in the manger, to take up our cross, is to find that we can love beyond ourselves. 

In a year full of unsettlement the light can shine brighter. How am I pushing Him away when He appears in ways I do not understand? Can I press in to the hard places, find hope in dark times, and trust when my heart is breaking in two? Beyond the fears and false hopes that a million other ways offer, can you see Him coming down into your broken world with the promise that in His arms all will be well? He's here. 

random

a car drove by

unlike another

its red design

clearly bespoke

a mousy nod

with 95

i marvelled at

its quirky lines

amused and glad

something so odd

a fleeting laugh

on rubber wheels

some 4-year-old

somewhat adulting

then hours later

the fabric tears

the world spins round

i'm upside down

a random man

gives me a sign

a glossy poster

common design

of that same car

unique offscreen

and rarely seen

i wonder dazed

at such a thing

coincidence

it seems

Weather Advisory

The rocking chair squeaked like an upset kitten as the old man leaned back and forth, his faded blue jean overalls patched up in the usual places. Outside the torrent showed no signs of letting up and to all appearances the road would be renamed Mill River by midnight. He muttered as the relentless drops kept up a steady beat as if the roof dreamed of being a timpani in another life.

I leant closer to hear.

"I lost it. I lost it. I lost it."

"What? What did you lose?"

He kept muttering, the repetition as metronomic as the raindrops. Like an occasional cymbal crash, almost as an afterthought I repeated my question when the muttering fluctuated in any way. The day began to slip into night without much more than dim turning dimmer and I considered finally giving up and passing on, but thought to try one last time. Perhaps the flickering streetlights, sputtering in the deluge, sparked his mind.

He stopped. His bleary eyes focused on me for the first time. His voice not more than a hoarse whisper, partly from age and partly from the incessant words, came so low that I leaned in to hear.

"I lost the way."

"The way to where?"

"Home."

this year

I wanted you to win

in a future bright with hope

each moment better than the last

with time never running out

but the rain is pounding down

and the field is barren

unable to be rewritten

the test results to be negative

stop the blood from being spilt

tear the pink slip in two

open the barricaded doors

hold love in my empty arms

our world is reeling

a topsy-turvy tragic unity

heir to a thousand choices

reverberating like a gong

in the face of senseless consequence

I thought you were something

but the days slip away

like sand through my fingers

I turn my collar to the wind

unsure if the drops are salty

when all I feel is loss

find a way to say amen

jots and tittles

i leave little papers around

reminders of things to do

or thoughts that stick and burn

i reuse the back of an envelope

or one of a million notepads

torn-off strips of forgotten letters

the lists find the waste basket

but the quotes and notes linger

until one day i've forgotten why

i can no longer feel the impact

like the memory of your touch

your fingerprints will fade away

tomorrow i'll make a new memo

the hour hand belies indelibility

and a thousand scars will heal

though i stroke their painful tracks

flinching at the occasional twinge

the completed list grows surely

sometimes quickly sometimes slowly

as clear as my scratches on a page

is my heart hiding or healing today

as i ponder another might-have-been

a little memory left lying around

wondering if it'll ever be carved in stone

a frosty morn

silver threads of frost snake across the shiny boards

as wan sunshine fails to warm the chilly air and i

gaze in wonder at a world gone south leaving these

the barren northern faces stripped of green life alone

time itself pausing as if to allow bereft hearts a pause

grieving comes in waves even after years a sharp pang

the dying season as leaves fall in glorious agony heaps

souls mourn what was what could have been and always

what never will be

a trickle of melting ice sparkles bravely in the sunshine

cascading down to water the crusty waiting earth and i

ponder seeds laid down again in hope of balmy breezes

a sweeter time to come when thoughts turn to love 

although the arctic fingers slip up around my throat

whispering of darker days to come and storms yet

this season too must pass when sorrow that endures

finds a shout of joy with the dawn and what will be

will ever be

2020

 the dark hours of the night passed with driving rain that beat and tore at the walls of the house dashing sleep from my eyes an echo to the beating that a year full of the island of dreams coming true and if you know the reference that's not a good thing because if all that our subconscious minds feared and desired materialised before us it would tear our souls in two and we would walk forward, forever broken in pieces yet in many ways this year has done exactly that by ripping away the shrouds of security that we carefully draped around a nice little life like the author says instead of grabbing on to things that are solid we grab on to each other yet we're all sliding off into eternity but what i ponder when shattered i gaze on all that i thought could be as ripped and tattered for now is how much hope can still remain for though it may be cliche shakings bring the possibility of seeing what you are made of and if you are still standing in the midst of incredible heartache you can take a step forward and see that He can bring beauty out of ashes for after all this world is not my home and through the salty water running down my face i can still stand and say amen

Zeno's Paradox

it's not hi or goodbye

it's the space in between

where heartache and laughter

are so often seen

where words bend and break us

and forever change

we leave empty-handed

though memories remain

the staying's not easy

so onward we press

past new hopes in greeting

away from the mess

but secretly yearning

in spite of it all

that someday at last

we would finally fall

embraced without fear

in the space in between

to never say farewell

and truly be seen

wind storm

 wind. 

not the lovely breeze that refreshes or invigorates. no, the gale force wind that almost knocks you off your feet. the strength of gusts when you must press in to counterbalance or risk toppling. funny, that. you must lean in, push back against the force of something that is hitting you harder than you think you can bear. literally. to continue standing you must embrace, move towards, lean into. counterintuitive. 

wind. 

i'm learning to not run from the forces that knock me off my feet. sure, it may feel like flying for a bit but it also means i can never stand still and i often fall. i must trust that He is with me and the change the wind can bring--not always just of me but others too--is for His best. He can carry me through. whether i am able to stand or not i will lean in and trust.