Lines from Vonnegut collide with Psalm 119 and my thoughts sling to the floor like cold mashed potatoes. I asked her what she thought Beauty was. We were talking about Beauty with a capital B. As she boiled down her answer to a purely good shine, I washed my throat with Dr. Pepper then whistled along to a beautiful song. We bantered back and forth about flowers and rust and babies and scars and sunsets. My knees felt like they had been kicked in. Would my pillow release me from the usual morning headlock? Could I twist its wrist? Would I even whimper in defiance?
Like an oak tree that drops its resurrection fruit, such furious words slide down the clock and break my nose with their reckless velocity. They brought live ammunition for their corroded cannons. Did they even know who they were aiming for? But they shot me in the head and in the heart and in my arms and legs. And how grateful I am for these wounds! If they had not buried alive those words meant for my heart, I might just be healthy and whole and comfortable today. What a terrible thought! But I praise God for such providential and dusty shrapnel that bled my soul dry and restarted my mind. Praise God for Scripture. Amen.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Back Home
This night is warm and windy. Though I'm tucked away in our dark living room, I like to imagine that there are clear, liquid stars overhead, barely stirred by a virgin summer breeze and dying to fall. In this sky stuffed with heat, the constellations seem to be melting. I'd love to see what star droplets look like. Would they drip through the Earth's crust like battery acid through paper? Would I be able to gaze at their glory long enough make a memory before my eyes burned away? Silly thoughts from a tongue tied dreamer.
I've been in dogged pursuit of what it means to be sensible. I heard once that men should be old when they're young and young when they're old. What I wouldn't give merit such a description when this corpse is hugged by the unfamiliar earth. Unfamiliar. What a world I've lived in these 21 years and yet I've only covered a pinprick of the area with feet too small for adventure. Still, I've never gotten used to this place. I pray to God that I never start to love this blue ball He's made for us. Though I'm thankful that He sparked it and spun it, I've daily been increasing in my jagged awareness that I'm a tenant. More and more, I feel like I've stumbled into a festival full of strangers and I'm not wearing a name tag. I pray that this sentiment doesn't shrink my compassion for those strangers. All the same, I'm thankful for this restless spirit. May God keep such venomous comfort as far from my shores as He wills.
Go Cardinals.
Your PB from J for today: "You get that from this grove, yes?"
I've been in dogged pursuit of what it means to be sensible. I heard once that men should be old when they're young and young when they're old. What I wouldn't give merit such a description when this corpse is hugged by the unfamiliar earth. Unfamiliar. What a world I've lived in these 21 years and yet I've only covered a pinprick of the area with feet too small for adventure. Still, I've never gotten used to this place. I pray to God that I never start to love this blue ball He's made for us. Though I'm thankful that He sparked it and spun it, I've daily been increasing in my jagged awareness that I'm a tenant. More and more, I feel like I've stumbled into a festival full of strangers and I'm not wearing a name tag. I pray that this sentiment doesn't shrink my compassion for those strangers. All the same, I'm thankful for this restless spirit. May God keep such venomous comfort as far from my shores as He wills.
Go Cardinals.
Your PB from J for today: "You get that from this grove, yes?"
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