Lord, when you send the rain think about it, please, a little? Do not get carried away by the sound of falling water, the marvelous light on the falling water. I am beneath that water. It falls with great force and the light Blinds me to the light. ~James Baldwin, “Untitled” from Jimmy’s Blues
The good Lord sends what He knows we need even if we don’t know we need it. Then we’re puzzled and not just a little perturbed, especially when it doesn’t fit our plans, our timeline, our desires, our hopes and dreams.
Anyone ask for this year’s chaos and grief? Can I see a show of hands?
No one I know sent up prayers for a viral scourge to sicken 40 million and kill over a one million in a matter of months, or for ever-widening political divides and disagreements, or increasing distrust and less cooperation between nuclear powers, or devastating unemployment and economic hardship, or triggers for riots in the streets, or being unable to visit my 100 year old aunt in her long term care facility.
Maybe, just maybe, we are too blinded by the force of this deluge pounding and battering us to acknowledge the nearly-drowned soaking we bring upon ourselves.
Maybe, just maybe, the Lord thinks a bit about what He sends, just as He has done before and has ever promised to do: a Light in the midst of the storm, that Marvelous Light, if only we would open our eyes enough to see it.
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough! Thy winds, thy wide grey skies! Thy mists, that roll and rise! Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag And all but cry with color! That gaunt crag To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff! World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all, But never knew I this; Here such a passion is As stretcheth me apart,– Lord, I do fear Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year; My soul is all but out of me,– let fall No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call. ~Edna St. Vincent Millay “God’s World”
Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute? I’m ready to go back. I should have listened to you. That’s all human beings are! Just blind people. ~Thornton Wilder, from Emily’s monologue in Our Town
Let me not wear blinders through my days.
Let me see and hear and feel it all even when it seems too much to bear.
Lord, prepare me to be so whelmed at your world, that
Heaven itself will be familiar, and not that far,
Just round the corner.
There is not one blade of grass, there is no color in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice. ~John Calvin
It is too easy to become blinded to the glory surrounding us if we perceive it to be routine and commonplace.
I can’t remember the last time I celebrated a blade of grass, given how focused I am mowing it into conformity.
Too often I’m not up early enough to witness the pink sunrise or I’m too busy to take time to watch the sun paint the sky red as it sets or to witness the ever-changing cloud formations above.
I didn’t notice how the light was illuminating our walnut tree until I saw the perfect reflection of it in our koi pond — I had marveled at a reflection instead of the real thing itself.
I miss opportunities to rejoice innumerable times a day. It takes only a moment of recognition and appreciation to feel the joy, and in that moment time stands still. Life stretches a little longer when I stop to acknowledge the intention of creation as an endless reservoir of rejoicing. If a blade of grass, if a palette of color, if a chance reflection, if a movement of clouds — if all this is made for joy, then maybe so am I.
Even colorless, plain and commonplace me, created an image-bearer and intended reflector of light.
The cattle crouched round them in soft shadowy clumps, placidly munching, and dreaming with wide-open eyes. The narrow zone of colour created by the firelight was like the planet Earth – a little freak of brightness in a universe of impenetrable shadows. ~Hope Mirrlees from “Watching the Cows”
Sometimes I feel I am dreaming awake with wide-open eyes. There is a slow motion quality to time as it flows from one hour to the next to the next. Everything becomes more vivid, as in a dream — the sounds of birds, the smell of the farm, the depth of the greens in the landscape, the taste of fresh plums, the intensity of every breath, the reason for being.
The rest of time, in its rush and blur, can feel like sleepwalking, my eyes open but unseeing. I stumble through life’s shadows, the path indiscernible, my future uncertain, my purpose illusive.
Wake me to dream some more. I want to chew on it again and again, like a cow it’s cud, savoring.
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