The raspberry bushes throw their leaves up in surrender to the breeze, silver backs against their stubborn green counterparts. The wind isn't continuous, he ebbs and flows, sounding like the ocean in my ear. I mentally glance at the maple tree on my way home every day, one small branch of red bleeds into the whole. I wear a cardigan on the back porch, my toes perched on the edge of a ceramic pot. The pot holds a plant that will soon enough be housed in my bedroom again. The world around here shouts of autumn.
It's been a wet summer. The old folks say the wettest since 1926. I don't know. I'm just happy for all the green that still is. It's hard for me not to feel claustrophobic this time of the year. Soon fall will settle in and I will love her rich colors, spiced coffees and fodder for creative writing. But today, in the middle of August, the thought of rich colors fading to months of white makes me want to hold my breath, hold that thought, hold it all on pause: love today and not think about tomorrow.
But I wasn't built like that. For all my talk about today's portion, I know my nemesis when I see it. I know my propensity to borrow tomorrow before the sun sets tonight. I know that the quietness of my spirit looks like patience but is really fear. I know that when I enjoy today it is because I am afraid of tomorrow.
I don't know what that peace feels like. I know how to sort things out, process them, understand them, grasp them. I know how to make lists, pros and cons and ups and downs. I know how to mentally make decisions, enjoy today, not fear today. But I do not know how to let my heart be untroubled concerning tomorrow. I fear years of tomorrows, years of decisions, years of boredom, years of work, and years of winter.
Because I am looking for a peace that the world offers.
This summer fades slowly into autumn, given over to times and seasons. I find peace in today because today's world feels safe. I am feasting on the bread of this world, on false peace, on the certainty of thousands of predictable seasons past and thousands more to come. But His peace isn't like that. I don't think. I don't know. But I can't help but really think that His comparison of His peace to the world's isn't an accident. It's supposed to be different, to feel different, and to perhaps come cloaked in something different than predictability and safety.
He directs the seasons, but He is not a seasonal God, to be loved today and feared tomorrow.
So, Lord, if you're leaving and you're giving, I'm accepting. I want that sort of peace. Regardless of which way the wind is blowing.
It's been a wet summer. The old folks say the wettest since 1926. I don't know. I'm just happy for all the green that still is. It's hard for me not to feel claustrophobic this time of the year. Soon fall will settle in and I will love her rich colors, spiced coffees and fodder for creative writing. But today, in the middle of August, the thought of rich colors fading to months of white makes me want to hold my breath, hold that thought, hold it all on pause: love today and not think about tomorrow.
But I wasn't built like that. For all my talk about today's portion, I know my nemesis when I see it. I know my propensity to borrow tomorrow before the sun sets tonight. I know that the quietness of my spirit looks like patience but is really fear. I know that when I enjoy today it is because I am afraid of tomorrow.
Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you;
not as the world gives do I give to you.
Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.
John 14.27
not as the world gives do I give to you.
Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.
John 14.27
I don't know what that peace feels like. I know how to sort things out, process them, understand them, grasp them. I know how to make lists, pros and cons and ups and downs. I know how to mentally make decisions, enjoy today, not fear today. But I do not know how to let my heart be untroubled concerning tomorrow. I fear years of tomorrows, years of decisions, years of boredom, years of work, and years of winter.
Because I am looking for a peace that the world offers.
This summer fades slowly into autumn, given over to times and seasons. I find peace in today because today's world feels safe. I am feasting on the bread of this world, on false peace, on the certainty of thousands of predictable seasons past and thousands more to come. But His peace isn't like that. I don't think. I don't know. But I can't help but really think that His comparison of His peace to the world's isn't an accident. It's supposed to be different, to feel different, and to perhaps come cloaked in something different than predictability and safety.
He directs the seasons, but He is not a seasonal God, to be loved today and feared tomorrow.
So, Lord, if you're leaving and you're giving, I'm accepting. I want that sort of peace. Regardless of which way the wind is blowing.
posted by Lore at 16.8.08
3 Comments:
Rilke is one of my favorite poets. I used to read him in German but cannot remember how now.
I highly recommend Rilke's Book of Hours-Love Poems to God. You have probably read it but aside from a few errors in thinking, he really was in deep relationship with God!!!
Listen to this:
"We become so accustomed to You, we no longer look up when Your shadow falls over the book we are reading and makes it glow. For all things sing You: at times we just hear them more clearly."
Great post BTW.
Michele L.
@Michele: Same for me. Rilke has always been a favorite.
Thanks for reading!
Though, when all is said and written and thought upon, I sense a sadness in the spirit that may coincide with "this" poet - a relation to what he has written that brings out the melancoly in us.
We certainly know the sweetness due to the shortness of summer life and what it means, what our fabulous fall brings to us and what the long, although sometimes fun-filled-winter months bring to us (and because these winter months are our longest, we picture those snow-bound days and read what has been written about our northern tundra, we sometimes miss God's beauty-listen to the wind howling through the barren trees (that is a wonderful sound really) even though the wind may be blustery and sharp upon our cheeks (we get ready for that hot chocolate), the air frigidly may for a moment take our breath away, and then there is the lovely, sparkling snowflakes, all different sizes, the frozen tear drops falling upon those spidery branches to make them glisten and bend to the ground with diamond-like sparkling tears and gems, the friends who talk of their fun-filled day as they either skated or skiied down the slopes and then ran into the cabins to warm their hands before a fireplace laughing and talking.
Through everything, though I see the joy that is there within you, there is an underlying sadness for something not quite tangible, something just out of reach, something desired more than anything, whatever that may be, that illusive thing, and I see a sweet spirit that cries and weeps and calls out, but God...
I believe the Lord this season is going to restore something beyond your imagination (as you let Him transform) and just trust as you have never trusted, even if it does not make sense, the beauty that will come from within you will change you and bring you a peace unsurmountable, a new joy that supercedes anything you have ever known.
Your eyes, my friend, are like a cornerstone and speak volumes. I have seen the joy and hilarity; I have seen the sadness, and do I know you-
Not a lot, but in my heart, I know you, and I care. Always in my thoughts.
This missive is I believe from the heart of God to you. Ms.B
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