'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe...
I must write, but I'm afraid I may have nothing to say. Will you read, see if I do? Maybe it will be useful after all. Don't know yet.
Perhaps my favorite thing about today was standing in the extrareal evening, sun shining through the trees on its way to setting, breeze perfect, the new leaves bright and naive in their greenness up in the trees. The kids were playing kickball, their greenness and naiveness also present, they not even aware of it. Watching them, some of my grown-up cynicism was stripped back and a bit of wavering innocence reappeared under the layers. Watching them, the magnetic rut had less pull on my mind, and for a few minutes, I stood in the dappling shadows, watching and thinking as though dreamed--suspended between my childhood and theirs, recognized by the children in neither.
Another me, more grown-up, also saw the man pitching. In grace and grace, he dispensed extra tries and non-outs and foul balls. The kids may not have really noticed, but in the little grace I saw a picture of big grace, though the little grace was imperfect.
This is my writing. I have been wanting to write for a long time. I keep not getting around to it. But every time I write, it's almost like making a painting, whereby I have the added benefit of the relief of not carrying around the picture anymore in my mind. The only thing is, writing is easier because you can redo it, which is dissimilar to a painting. :)
It is late and bedtime. Good night. Thank you for reading this far if you did. :)
This past weekend, I got my wisdom teeth out. This weekend was a study in deliberate rest and not needing to be anywhere. As I've been resting, I've also been reading. One book is The Heir
, by one of my favorite teachers, Paul Robertson. The other book is Reaching for the Invisible God
, by Philip Yancey.
The Philip Yancey book has been addressing things I've been thinking about. It has been putting words to struggles I haven't even been identifying in my mind but which have been there. It talks about faith and doubt, and about faith as being a way of life that forms itself around trusting God instead of assuming a fearful state. It talks about how the Bible addresses the problem of pain.
Last night, after reading that book and before dinner, I got an email updating us on the condition of a man at our church in Blacksburg. He has been struggling with melanoma and other complications, and we were dismayed to hear that he may only have a few months to live, and we know that if he goes soon, he'll leave behind his wife and two kids.
Over dinner I shared all this turmoil in my heart with Justin, and he encouraged me with the things he's been learning about the same issues. He said to have hope in God, don't try to deal with it on your own, and just focus on knowing and worshiping God again.
Today, I heard that somebody shot around forty people on the Virginia Tech campus, killing more than twenty of them. I heard from my brother and Justin's sister; they're both okay. I've heard about several friends and they've all been okay.
I don't think that my loss or the trauma I've experienced is much to report on the scale of what has happened today. Everything seems surreal and I feel purposeless, and the intensity of the wind outside, trying to get in, only makes the feeling worse.