Scared and Sacred
Within us is a scared place…
A tiny room only we hold the key to,
Even though the world viciously attacks that door with crowbars
And the prisoners inside scream for release.
These are demons of self-loathing and anxiety;
Unresolved sin and murky outlooks.
They bathe in a cold isolation whirlpool
Where love and hope
Drown in dark eddies.
Within us, too, is sacred space…
An expansive boundless universe filled with holy spirits,
Arms wide for a welcoming hug.
They understand us and forgive us anyway.
They baptize in grace and fill our hearts with spilled-over blessing.
Whispering to us our calling,
We’re transported to an aerie high above the dross
Where agape showers cleanse us
And rainbows are born.
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Changing Clocks & Migrating Blackbirds
Today, we awoke to our first Daylight Savings Time Sunday. We had reset an essential clock or two back an hour before going to bed, and will spend the rest of the week readjusting clocks on walls, stoves, cars, etc. And our bodies will take a few days to re-sync as well.
Ah yes, we “gained an hour.” I guess the idea is that kids can now go to school in the daylight. Of course, it’s nearly dark when they go home. Then sometime in April or May, we’ll “lose an hour” as we “spring ahead.” With that and the summer equinox, I’ll be able to mow my lawn at 9:30 if I so choose.
The whole clock changing thing seems a bit silly. Kinda seems like a feeble attempt by The World Order to control the solar cycle. What’s amusing is hearing some folks actually say that we really did lose a complete hour of daylight…just by turning back our clocks…
Anyway, I was just preparing to brew some coffee when I looked out the kitchen window.
Migrating blackbirds filled a big slice of the sky. Thousands fluttered toward the east in a communal avian stream, lasting several minutes. They drifted gradually southward until they were above our house. By the time I got outside, the last few were flying over. Fortunately they were thoughtful enough to not drop me a souvenir.
Blackbirds don’t have to worry about setting clocks. But how do they know when it’s time to head south? Who was the head bird leading them, and how did it claim that authority? And how many birds were just going along with the flock…when they really wanted to fly off in a different direction, or not leave until Wednesday? How many stayed behind, and why?
How did a million blackbirds get the message to all meet up on Sunday with wings ready, because “we plan to make it to Peoria today”? How did they know to buck a fairly steady southern breeze by heading ESE?
Genesis says God created man to have dominion over the birds of the sky. But it would have been funny to see a couple guys trying to shoo the birds in another direction, or yell them into landing in the neighbor’s cornfield.
I realize our pioneer ancestors were able, within a few generations, to tragically blast clouds of passenger pigeons from the sky and into extinction.
But at least for this one morning, we had no control over where those blackbirds were headed or what they were doing. And that’s reassuring.
We’ll just have to stick with manipulating the sunrise, right?
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The Bible, God, and Dogs
Biblical references to dogs are mostly disparaging and blasphemous.
“Canine scavengers” and “evil dogs” are terms that appear. “Like a dog that returns to its vomit is a fool who repeats his folly,” we learn in Proverbs. The only thing Jesus says about them is that it’s not good to take children’s bread and throw it to dogs, which is a neutral statement (about dogs, anyway) at best. There are “human dog” references, although I for one have been bitten more often by people than canines.
That bothers me.
I know there are demons among us that can rightfully be compared to vicious Rottweilers–the kind who are bred and trained to protect drug cartels.
But if one believes in a loving Universal Spirit, then “God” and “Dog” have much more in common than being anagrams.
They both want to know your secrets; your concerns; your joys. They’re always ready to walk alongside you. They both love you unconditionally. They can always sense how you’re feeling.
Both can be playful, yet both are content to just sit close beside you. Both are loyal and would never forsake you. Both thrive on praise and attention.
When we’re getting out of line, both can growl or nip our heels to get us back on track.
Most fundamentally, both God and Dog are convinced that we are much better people than most of us think we are.
No wonder many folks consider a dog as their best friend. Hopefully they leave some room in their heart for God, too.
***
On a lighter note…what did the dyslexic agnostic say?
“There is no Dog, there is no Dog!”
Snoopy, our lab-husky mix, near the Des Moines River at Yellow Banks Park. He was unleashed from this world in July 2011.
Guardian Angel
Guardian angels? I’d heard of them, but had never experienced them personally until Father’s Day, 1996. That afternoon, we were carrying out our final basement loads and cleaning up as we concluded our move from northeast Des Moines to our new home in Pleasant Hill, five miles away. This was the final day our entire family was to be together at our old place. Vacuuming my old office area downstairs, I noticed something small and shiny. It was a gold-colored angel pin, one I had never seen before. I stuck it in my pocket.
Shortly afterward, the guy who bought our place arrived with a sectional sofa. I helped him wrestle it into the living room and offered to ride with him to his mom’s place to move some other large items. Following this, the plan was to reunite at our new place for a barbeque. Deb and the kids were nearly ready to leave as Scott and I left to head across town.
By the time we sipped ice tea with his mom, loaded up, and arrived back in Des Moines, nearly two hours had elapsed. Our driveway was blocked by several cars, the garage door was wide open, our Tempo and van were still there, and something seemed odd. My wife, daughters, and half the neighborhood kids greeted us with some disturbing news.
Within minutes after Scott and I had left, Deb had taken the kids across the street to say goodbye to some playmates and see a puppy. Getting ready to cross back, three year old Matt impulsively bolted into the street! He had nearly crossed in front of a slow-moving car when his head was clipped by the headlight molding, knocking him to the pavement and gashing open his head. An ambulance quickly arrived and rushed him to ER. The checked him out, closed his cut with two surgical staples, bandaged his knee, and released him to Deb. Returning home, he was his usual goofy self. I picked him up and gave him a numb hug.
Much later that night, Deb snuggled in bed with a sleeping Matt, tearfully thanking God for the slightness of his injuries.
And as I emptied my pocket…I pulled out the angel pin.
godservations 