"Lest We Forget"

Time stands like stones in the ground.
Marble marks the rest in life.
Time stands eternal still,
The lull in infinite transition.
Trees loom high above earthen tombs.
Earth covers over earth.
Sound hangs in whispered tune,
As clear-cut letter deciphers man's condition.
Time hangs still, lest we forget,
For no man.

- October 26, 2008

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So, amidst traversing (and partially trespassing) through a field of cow-pies and boggy hitch-hiker seedy things sticking to my person, part of the adventures of this Sabbath involved a trip to a Civil War cemetery. i don't much like cemeteries, or my birthday for that matter, for certain reasons pertaining to death... but every so often, it is good to see outside of the bustle of humanity the outcome of life. For all the hustling and worrying very little attention is paid to the fact that we're all (unless Jesus comes back soon) going to be under a plot of land somewhere. Morbid, perhaps, but no less true. But to be serious, seeing all of the grave stones and a vast majority of them marked "Unknown" it got me thinking. These were men with hopes and aspirations, dreams and visions just like all men; but all they have to show for it on earth right now is a stone with narry even their name on it. Then the words etched in stone above said: "Lest We Forget" -- indeed, lest we forget that we are mortal. That we take nothing into this world with us and will take nothing out; that only what is done for God will last. Time seemed to stand still in that little plot of land, but that is only an illusion; because, really, time is an illusion -- temprality and time itself are generic knock-offs of the origional: eternity. And there is an eternity ahead. Lest we forget, we live now but a moment, but we shall live forever... who and what are you living for?

Vous n'allez pas secouer mon monde.

What happens when you ask God to do things? Tonight is a prime example: miracles happen, the unthinkable happens, the improbable has no footing, truth makes an appearance and tired grips are reaffirmed.

Gravity

It's raining outside.
The trees are undecided about which color to turn their leaves.
"The World Spins Madly On" is playing in the background.
And i know that's true.
Maybe there were days, in years past, when life felt less weighty.
Though, i can't remember a time like that. That's the beauty of age, i guess --
forgetfulness.
There's this gravity, this weight to everything i do.
Nothing is simply simple. Everything counts, everything matters.
Whether or not my actions are actually weighty, remains to be seen;
but i cannot live, i feel, in an ambiguous state of being.
i cannot say "i love you" to simply hear my words and hope that
they are enough to convince myself and others. There's this issue of gravity
that brings me down, that keeps my reigned in reminding me of what matters.
Softly, intrudingly bringing my head out of the clouds, back to the ground.
That's where life happens, anyway.
It's not possible to love without living. Though it may be possible to live without
ever really loving. And that's terrifying. Gravity, pull me down. And i'll wait
for this fog to clear.

one. thing.

"I have one regret: I regret words."
(Prof. C.C. Chapel series)

"I'm hungry"

in the Bible, there's a part where Jesus is talking about the end, and all people would be gathered and God would look to the people at His right and say "When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was naked, you clothed me. When I was sick and alone, you took care of me and stayed with me." (paraphrased) and they asked Him: "Lord, when did we do these things?" The answer? "What you have done unto the least of these, you have done unto me." The reverse of this is also true: What you haven't done unto the least of these, you haven't done for Jesus.
my heart is hurting, you see. i see this picture in my mind of a woman sitting alone on a park bench. i feel despair in her gaze and posture. i hear her words like a knife in my heart: "Can you help me? ...I'm hungry." in Calcutta we were told to ignore street beggars when they asked for money, because "it would do more harm than good"... if that's exactly true or not, i'm not sure. but i wasn't in Calcutta, and no one was there to make that decision for me. this was walking in Philly, on a gorgeous, crisp fall day; and there was no ignoring those words. they echo in my head even now.
thinking back on the situation... she lied. she didn't want food. we tried to give food. i lied too. i said i had no money. she said she just needed to get home. i asked how she would get home... she said she was homeless. and as soon as the change in my and another's pocket left our hands, our presence was no more acknowledged by this woman. it was like we were no longer there.
more than anything, i'd like to 'feel' good about this situation. i'd like to look back and say i did everything i could have possibly done, that i hadn't lied about money, that i was going about this purely to love someone and not to assauge my concience. what do i know anyway? more than anything i'd like to see the woman on the bench smiling, filled with more than food, happy with more than money. Jesus... today i heard you speaking... and i tried to help... but my assesment on what help is, in reality, is maybe not always the way i see help... i saw Jesus today and i cannot forget HIM.

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.