Etched against the gray/blue morning sky outside my window, cold wet tree branches reach out, etch-a-sketching their winter story. Rain drops begin a random descent to the earth and pause briefly on each branch’s twigs. The sunlight reflected within every drop’s tenuous grip flashes a coded message: though a distance away as the calendar speaks, spring is coming. Two nervous hummingbirds stop in the dogwood, itself a study in contemplation, all bark and no bite. The first short-winged bird pauses a quarter second longer than its partner, which quickly goads it back into flight. Hummingbirds are always first in line for coffee.
writing
Forever in Green Jeans
The other day I came home with two bags. One bag held a couple bottles of green fabric dye, the other one had four pairs of white jeans. Lori looked up from reading as I walked through the door.
“Whatcha got?”
“White jeans and green fabric dye.”
“Very funny. No, really.”
“Really. Here, see for yourself.”
“Okay, now for the obvious question…”
“Why?”
“Yes, for heaven’s sake.”
“I had a moment of inspiration when I woke up this morning.”
Her face cinched up like it does when she suddenly gets a migraine.
“You woke up inspired to dye white jeans green?”
“Yes.”
“You know, someone has already coined ‘The Green Revolution.'”
“This is about leveling the playing field. Blue jeans have held the high ground for too long.”
“You’re piling up metaphors.”
“If you don’t use ’em you lose ’em.”
“Joel, stop it. Seriously.”
“Here’s the thing. Blue jeans are everywhere. In addition to the actual blue jeans, which you can buy in every size, style, and price range, there are a zillion products made from them. You can get blue jean trucks, blue jean sheets, blue jean perfume… The list goes on and on.”
“And you think you can do the same thing for green jeans?”
“I do.”
“Alright, don’t for a minute think I’m taking this seriously, but since I know how you get, I’ll humor you.”
“Alright.”
“Have you thought out your campaign?”
“Down to the ant’s toenails.”
“That’s not a saying.”
“It is now.”
She bowed her head and appeared to be praying. I think I heard her say something like, “Give me strength.”
“Why didn’t you just buy some green jeans.”
“Too hard to find. A company in Israel has some, but shipping charges would kill me. White jeans were difficult enough. After I get these babies dyed, I’m going to hire a professional photographer and get started on the first ad campaign.”
“What about a national spokesperson?”
“Mr. Green jeans.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Why?”
“Well, first off, the only people who remember him are your age and older.”
“I resent that.”
“Have you considered the fact that he’s dead?”
“With today’s technology, it’s barely an issue. Anyway, if that doesn’t work, I’ll get Neil Diamond to change the lyrics to his song.”
“I’m washing my hands of it. Go die your jeans.”
“It’s spelled dye.”
“I stand by the way I’m spelling it.”
An Understanding Heart
Sebastian Temple composed a wonderful hymn in 1967 based on the “Prayer of St. Francis.” The refrain from that hymn says:
Oh Master, grant that I may never seek
so much to be consoled as to console.
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved, as to love with all my soul.
The great King Solomon, the son of King David, represents one of our best models of a wise man. The wisdom he possessed came through his proper relationship with God. The Bible mentions Solomon’s request of wisdom from God in 1 Kings 3:2-4:34. In verse 9 he says, “So give Your servant an understanding heart to judge Your people to discern between good and evil. For who is able to judge this great people of Yours?” Solomon knew that if he was to have any chance of being a proper King and judge over his people he would have to see with God’s eyes.
When I look at the world, Lord
I see through the lens of my own clouded eyes
and it becomes a scene of my own making.
With Your surgeon’s hands clear my sight to see in hearts
as though from a dream I’m waking.
Light and Life
Those familiar with forest ecology will tell you of the miracle of renewal that a forest experiences following a fire. Many plant species require fire to germinate and flourish. People whose communities have been devastated by earthquake or storm gather together, and neighbors who may have never communicated bond to demonstrate true unity in the face of loss. Whether a particular tragedy is suffered by one or many, the ripple effect touches us all, first with sorrow, then with hope. Hope brings light to places we would never expect the darkness to leave once it has spread its cloak.
Lord, when the walls close in on me
and I think that I’m alone
when all I feel is despair
help me remember the life you’ve designed
to emerge from the ashes
remind me of those who have gone before
with your Son’s example to guide them
what might seem so fragile a breath could break
through a wasteland of fear still passes
the hands that tightly hold a flame
that fades and flickers and gutters
will once more grasp hands of hope
leading the way through foreboding passes
never alone on the journey
never alone on the journey
never alone on the journey
The Big Red Chair
Today I’m going to do something which I probably should have done at the outset of this little blog, that is explain why I’m writing it and what I hope to accomplish. What should you expect? I started it around Christmas and one of the things blog writers will often do is challenge ourselves to keep a certain schedule, i.e. once a week or even once a day. I’ve taken on the challenge of writing every day in 2013. I have several goals in mind besides just getting something published every 24 hours. First, I’d like it to mean something. As a Christian, I certainly make no bones about having a particular point of view. I believe there is a prescription for the pain we all inevitably go through, and that is through the healing power provided through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But Christians are in a continual state of change, like anyone. We deal with doubt and sickness and all the other challenges life throws at us, sometimes well, sometimes poorly. Through poetry, humor, and just my general outlook on life, I would like you to take this journey with me. Normally I’ll publish in the morning. Although a couple of times already I’ve looked back at something I put out earlier and wondered just what I was thinking, I’ll try to avoid having to edit myself too much after the fact.
Our family occasionally watches “The Graham Norton Show.” It’s a British talk show, along the lines of something like Jay Leno’s “Tonight Show.” I mention it because Norton features a bit at the end of each show called “The Big Red Chair.” Audience members are selected to sit in the chair and tell a personal story. While they’re telling the story, Norton has his hand on a lever and if the story isn’t entertaining, he pulls the lever, and the chair and its occupant are thrown backward. If the story is deemed engaging enough, the person actually gets to stand up and walk away.
I tell that story to illustrate what I believe is true for writers, as well. As the reader, you hold the power of the lever; At any point you may simply stop reading and, in a virtual sense anyway, I will find myself on the floor with my feet in the air; I guess that’s just the risk I’ll have to take. In the meantime, please be patient with me and stick around if you are so inclined.
See you tomorrow, Write Here.
Write here, Joel. 