Shuffle

Honey-lemon lozenges, Sprite can, tissues, a faded burgundy canvas bound books reading "God was in Christ", deadlines, worlds to be discovered. A vast sea of memories which must swell the heart of many in the past, show up on small Kodachrome slides hilighted by the small slide viewer in my grandpa's apartment. Generations past, and yet they are so close. Smiles, and yet worlds apart. And to think of what I would have done with this evening if I had not been sick...
Shuffle, shuffle. Movement is not always advancement, and in the end, standing before the Throne of God looking at Christ for the first time, I shall not be (I don't think) finding great comfort in the fact that I "did" things. No, instead it would seem that taking time to smell flowers when they bloom, to hold hands that need to be held, to bear burdens that need to be born, to love those around regardless of deadlines, to see the royalty in the homeless man and the courage of the battered woman. To love the abused, confused, used... those things will not qualify or sanctify in themselves, but they will be time to spend with Jesus. And, after all, it makes for good preparation when we will be with Him forever, to spend time with Him now, does it not? So, tonight, let me stop the "shuffle" and take a deep (albeit, congested) breath and thank God...

Say hello to life

A mess of splattered communication.
Mulling over future generations,
Screwed over by the current situations.
This is what we wake up to.

Misty mornings find them mourning.
Walking down the tracks scorning,
Decisions made without warning.
Good afternoon, dear. Say hello to life.

The board walk's slick as rain,
Frozen sticking to window panes,
Miles behind, time brings pain back again.
Driving away, away from life.

Everyone's talking, no one's listening,
Hearts sighing, heavy. Eyes glistening,
With tears, come, come trickling.
Good morning, just take this away.

Hang it out to dry,
Let it alone, just let it die,
Don't hang over like sun-setting skies.
Beautifully out of reach, always out of reach.

Pain's comming to Christmas every other year,
Leaving hearts to writhe, eyes to drown in their own tears.
Is there redemption, redemption amidst fear?
Say hello to life.

You didn't ask me if i wanted to love.
Now i've no choice. Here i am.
And now my heart's being torn away.
Say hello to life.

Sandcastles

"All the chisels i have dulled carving idols of stone. They have crumbled like sand 'neath the waves. i have restlessly built all my dreams in the sand, just to watch them all wash away." - Jennifer Knapp

No matter how many times we built that castle -- it always sloshed and melted away beneath the torrent of water. And everytime we made a stronger structure, and reinforced caverns, it all fell just the same. Till i just sat down and salt water flowed from me and not the sea, painfully atune to the futility of our endeavor. Building on what cannot stand. Standing on what will fall. Falling with each gentle wave. These skeletons of idols littering the beach, these tomb stones marking human "acheivment" and endeavor are stale reminders of fuitile temporality of joy in "things" and not in God. So with each sweeping wave, crashing down upon the idols in my heart, may You build up, O Rock of Ages, a mountian in my heart. One not made by my hands. A Rock cut not with human hands.