The Reconciliation of James and Albert

(The Unified Theory)

Upon his great mandrel, curved,
Matter, he has spread as thin
As butter, ‘til seen clean through.
Should it tear, all there would begin
As though the universe were new.

And at falling edge, hidden fields curl
To charge the thundering stems
And point the wandering compass.
Sure, at the core, energy. But when
Will we be light, not sluggish mass?

From the cottage, white wisps unfurl
Downwind like peaceful pennants.
Within, two friends warm tired feet,
And, content, these ancient tenants
Enjoy fresh pipes and smoldering peat.

And in their quiet, unfiltered world,
They serve the proper penance
For odd stories told incomplete.
And, contrite, they burn night-minutes
Until, at last, ‘tis time they eat.
______________________

James Clerk Maxwell
Albert Einstein

Who Is Like You?

Who is like you?
Nobody I know is like you.
You sit up there and look down on shining stars,
Yet you watch over the sons of earth.
You keep the dust from settling quietly down,
Yet lift our heads so we don’t drown.

Who is like you?
Nobody I know is like you.
You forever stare down through
Shimmering skies to tend the fires that you started.
You send our soiled ash blowing wildly around,
Yet raise the dead, clean, from the ground.

Who is like you?
Nobody I know is like you.
You reign up there; no one’s above you.
You are so high, but send the rain to water lands,
To bless the mothers bowing, humble, down,
With crowned babies heads – Grace, coming down.

Who is like you?
Nobody I know, Lord,
Is like you.

_____________
November 25, 2015 (Version 2)
Psalm 113

Where Is Your God?

From the hills above me, they throw down
Heavy stones to crush my soul.
From the walls surrounding, their voices drown
Heart-felt songs of love, mercy –
Chanting, “Where is your God?”
And sometimes it takes a moment
For me to find you, for me to see.

I look into the dark
And just see my ghost.
I search the night sky-
All my stars are gone.
I watch the sun rise;
Another day is lost.
Hear birds sing, but I
Just feel all alone.

If I can just survive this dry, insipid hunger-
If you will let me live just a little while longer-
I know I will find you or you will find me.

I’ll look into the dark
And see your glory.
I’ll search the night sky;
My fears will be gone.
I’ll watch the sun rise
To light morning stories.
Hear the dove and I’ll
Write our new love songs.

From the hills above me, you’ll come down,
Bearing oil to soothe my pain.
From the walls around me, a joyous sound-
Heart-felt songs of love, mercy –
Chanting, “Where is our God?”
And you’ll answer in that moment
Here I am. I’m right here. Can’t you see?

Here I am. I’m right here.
Where is your God?
Here I am. I’m right here.
God is near. God is near.
_________________________
 (Psalm 79:10 ESV)

Love Genuine

Let love be genuine.

Abhor what is evil;

Hold fast to what is good. 

Love one another with

Brotherly affection. 

Outdo one another 

In showing honor. 

Do not be slothful

In your zeal, 

Be fervent in spirit, 

Serve the Lord. 

Rejoice in hope, 

Be patient in tribulation, 

Be constant in prayer. 

Give to the needs of saints 

And always seek to show 

Hospitality.

Bless those who persecute;

Bless and do not curse them.

Rejoice with those who rejoice;

Weep with those who weep.

Live in harmony 

With one another. 

Do not be haughty, 

But spend time with the lowly. 

Do not be wise 

In your own sight. 

Repay no one evil for evil, 

But give thought to do

What is honorable 

In the sight of all. 

As it depends on you, 

Live peaceably with all. 

Beloved, 

Never avenge yourselves, 

But leave it to the wrath of God,

For it is written, 

“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, 

says the Lord.” 

To the contrary, 

“If your enemy is hungry, 

Feed him; 

If he is thirsty, 

Give him drink; 

For by so doing

You will heap burning coals

On his head.” 

Do not be overcome by evil, 

But overcome evil with good.

 ____________________________

(Romans 12:9-21 ESV, edits mine)

Driftwood

There is a tall, thin man walking down the beach alone -
Moving slower than I thought one could.
He is wearing black high-boots, bright safety vest, and a soft felt beret.
I am not sure why, but I think he is a policeman.
I don’t know if this is what he was expecting to find –
Hard to believe that anybody would
Leave home hoping to wind up here on this forgotten shore, so cold, so early.
From where I’m standing, I don’t see the plan.
I am not sure why, but the policeman seems tired, weary –
I suppose a good one should be.
He is slightly hunched forward, head down – he might be writing in a diary.
From where I’m standing, I can’t see his hands.
But there is not much here this morning – the island edge is clean
Except for one small piece of driftwood
That has settled finally on the shifting-surf border between earth and beryl sea.
A satin sky, yet one face still shines in the wet sand.

She’s turned her copper kettle on its side
Spilling purple remnants in the tide,
Yet there is no attempt to hide
It from Justice she’s never known.

And the inland sea is all-night washing,
Clearing the streets for the cowered-kings.
And while the evening tide is falling, so
Death’s pale tender-pile keeps growing.

Somewhere there’s a raft listing to one side,
Spilling wretched refuse in the night.
Is there no pilot left to guide
Them through the storm – to bring them home?

Yes, the inland sea is always working,
Raising tribute to the king-coming.
Forsaken loves shall heed his calling to
Ascend, slender tapers, now glowing.

__________________________________________
September 5, 2015
Daniel 10-12, Ezekiel (1,10, 12, 28, but especially Chapter 24)

Sitting in the Gate

“The king is sitting in the gate.
And all the people came before the king.”
I read it early this morning,
Second Samuel, nineteen, verse eight.

King David had a boy named Absalom
Who hung himself on a tree and was killed there.
When he heard it, David’s heart just went numb
To the pain in this life - to a loss he couldn’t bear.

Who could blame you, Lord, if you didn’t come down today?
Who could blame you, Lord, if you just stayed home today,
Hid your face and grieved alone your Son?
If you didn’t come down today, who could blame you?

But you, in the high, cold spring, Lord – you washed your face
And walked down that long road to take your rightful place –
To take your justice seat in the city gate.

So, I want to thank you, Lord. If you hadn’t come down today,
I wouldn’t know how to love, what to think, surely how to pray;
I need you just to face the rising of the sun.

So, yet another night is passing, Mercy, you can take it!
In the breaking light, Lord, I see you still sitting there,
And my burden feels light. Lord, I think I can make it
To the end of the day – just one more cross I might bear.

The king is sitting in the gate.
And all the people come before the king.
I believe it all this morning,
Second Samuel, nineteen, verse eight.

She's Not Worried

Hey, Brother!
Got a penny for these sparrows?
This kind is meant just for you.
If you don’t take them - someone will;
If they don’t, going to let them go,
Just let them fall.

I was dreaming; my heart still wary;
Watching as he brought girls to the brink
Of horror – where young ones go in war
To escape the flashing edge of swords.

Suddenly,
I was walking home on Mulberry;
Heading up the road to get a drink,
Saw him standing - his face to her door,
I guess he must have been the landlord.

Hey, Sister!
Got my money for tomorrow?
Just kind words will never do.
If you don’t get it – someone will;
If you don’t, going to make you go,
Then burn it all.

Some folks would be uneasy then,
But no, not she,
For the lilies do not worry
And Solomon in all his glory
Was not arrayed as one of these.
Children, this blue flour dress tells her story
And, hard as it is, it’s still worth telling,
So, take your time, she’s in no hurry now.
No, she’s not worried,
Not at all.

Hey Lord,
Is there solace for my sorrow?
Just kind words will never do.
If you don’t give it – no one will:
If you don’t, going to let her go –
Demons and all.

I was reading a bible story,
Reading about a faithful woman,
Saw a man walking by her front door,
Somehow knew he must be the Lord.

Quietly,
He was passing, says that old story,
Passing through the fallen town, Sidon,
And she knew her cries he must have heard,
But he did not answer her – a word.

Oh, Lord!
You got to have mercy – you know
What kind-loving sure can do.
If you don’t give it – no one will;
If you won’t, got nowhere else to go,
No place at all

Some folks would be uneasy then,
But no, not she,
For the lilies do not worry
And Solomon in all his glory
Was not arrayed as one of these.
Children, this blue flour dress tells her story
And, hard as it is, it’s still worth telling,
So, take your time, she’s in no hurry now.
No, she’s not worried,
Not at all.

Oh Lord!
You got to cast her off, make her go.
Her kind will hang onto you.
If you don’t do it – someone will;
If you won’t, not going to make it, no,
Can’t save us all.

I am pushing on, now let me be!
Needy woman, please wait and see.
I am bearing bread from the Father;
His task, my love; his will, my pleasure.

Finally,
I am heading to the Galilee,
Feeding all the children, the lost sheep
Of Israel starving for my good word,
For the manna, the body of their Lord.

So, you!
I’ve got nothing for you, so go -
No kind words will help you now.
If you don’t get it – others will;
And you won’t – I got to let you know,
No bread at all!

Some folks would be uneasy then,
But no, not she.
For the lilies do not worry
And Solomon in all his glory
Was not arrayed as one of these.
Children, this blue flour dress tells her story
And, hard as it is, it’s still worth telling,
So, take your time, she’s in no hurry now.
No, she’s not worried,
Not at all.

Oh, Lord!
Are there broken crumbs for her? Let go!
Your kind touch will make men new.
If you don’t save her – no one will;
If you won’t, well, I guess I don’t know
You, Lord, at all.

May God bless you!
These lost ones I will never let go.
And kindness, love, you also do.
If we don’t love them – no one will;
Yes, you know me, child. You know I won’t
Just let them fall.

For the lilies do not worry
And Solomon in all his glory
Was not arrayed as one of these.
Children, her blue flour dress tells your story
And, hard as it is, it’s still worth telling,
So, take your time, you’re in no hurry now.
No, be not worried,
Not at all.
_______________________________________

Matthew 6, 10, 15, Mark 7

Dusty Dancers

So, Preacher, I hear what you say

Ashes to ashes, day after day,

Dust to dust, to vanity always return,

Nothing new under the sun.

But hear that yelling in my backyard?

There’s some wild ones playing hard,

Busting through the sanity of this old earth,

Something new under the sun.

For there is still joy between the ash heaps;

Childish noise between our silent sleeps,

Love-you-blooming flowers in the sand box

And dusty dancers in the grass. Just watch!

________________________________

Ecclesiastes 3; Luke 10:21-24

Just Right Baptism

I pray for the Lord to humble me, to cleanse me of my sins, and to infuse my soul with the gift of the Holy Spirit so that my flesh may be sealed from iniquity. Then I complain when the Lord holds my head under the water a little too long.

So Great

Lord

Anxiety and vexation

So great

My prayers – inaudible

My shaking – invisible

My belly so empty

That I cannot eat

My heart so thirsty

That tears cannot fall.

Lord

So great.

____________

1 Samuel 1:12-18 ESV

Her Treasure

For mold - too new,

For rust - too dry,

For moths to fly

And for men to climb, well -

These hills are too high.

For nights, a light,

For most - too white.

For thieves, a sight

Too bright for us to steal,

But for her - so right.

For her treasure,

Her heart,

Is for heaven.

For Love is sure,

Her heart

Is for heaven.

________________________

For Grace and her girlfriends

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

(Matthew 6:19-21 ESV)

Philae

I’m here,
One sore shoulder leaning
Against the rising edge of day,
Still drowsy from my sleeping
In the shadow of your dream,
Still waking from the night,
Still wondering why I have heard
Nothing from you.

But now, even if I heard something –
Got a word from on high;
I’m not sure I could leave here –
Not sure I can even move.
I may be sitting in a canyon –
Wouldn’t know it if I was.
I couldn't do a thing about it –
Can’t imagine where I’d go
To find you.

I’m here,
One-more older, settling
In this carbon-blacked crust of clay,
Still listening for the soundings
Of life and all that might mean,
Still waiting in the quiet,
Still wondering why I have heard
Nothing from you.

But now, even if I heard something –
Got a sign from on high,
I’m not sure that I’d believe it –
Can’t promise you I’d leave.
I may be resting in a kingdom –
Wouldn’t know it if I was,
I couldn't do a thing about it –
Can’t imagine how to want
You any more.

I’m here,
Getting colder, curling up
Beneath the spiral Rosetta,
Still longing for your sending
Or your last word to end me.
Still hoping you were right,
Still wondering why I am hurt
By nothing from you.

____________________________

Inspired by the comet lander, Philae, and its patient wait in the shadows of comet 67P for its solar batteries to charge enough for it to resume communications with its makers via its “mother ship”, the orbiter spacecraft, Rosetta. Rosetta continues to take valuable data as it circles around the rocky comet in a spiral pattern.  It was said that even if Philae were sitting directly over evidence of extra-terrestrial microbial life, it wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Coincidentally, on this date in 1799, the Rosetta stone was discovered by French soldiers in Egypt. The Rosetta stone, used in conjunction with the Philae obelisk, was an essential key in deciphering the Egyptian hieroglyphs.

Judith

I see in Master’s paint thy Art intent

And hear through ancient pane thy voice content.

Judith, has thy work, painful labor, spent

Brought thee peace; Understanding, even yet?

What seest thou, Woman, that thine eye enthralled,

Is so keen to cut through this earthly pall

And pierce the Veil of being, uncovering all

Inside that fills Man’s rusting love offal?

With stare and wonder that smiles dangers hide;

Rapt, curious, thou calmly set aside

Translucent layers of his lovely guise,

Until Truth, piece by piece, lies undenied.

Holofernes, late, saw beauty - amazed,

And overturned, he dreamt thy mind dazed

By rich wine, smooth form - not Calling obeyed.

Judith, what Hope lies ‘neath thy shredding Gaze?

_________________________________________

Judith Beheading Holofernes - Caravaggio

Go Back Home

I been yearning for a walk-about; 

Ready for a change – time to

Move along,

Pick it up and put it down, head out for the stars; the Big

Long Gone.

I been traveling for a billion years, 

Riding a hard old rock. It’s such a

Long, long trip.

But I can tell that now I’m here, that it’s time to head

Back home.

Gonna leave here someday -

Go it alone.

Maybe live in the wilderness

Where the water falls.

Maybe be the first one on Mars;

The last one alone.

Gonna leave here someday –

Go back home.

I been burning through this world all right; 

Red eyes in a trance – trying to

Make it by;

Lit it up and hit it hard, spread out on the plains; set fields

On fire.

I been going on my murky way; 

Trying to stay intact; to hold this life

Together.

But there comes a day I’ll get tired, Son, and I know that time

Grows near.

Gonna leave here someday -

Go it alone.

Maybe live in the wilderness

Where the water falls.

Maybe be the first one on Mars;

The last one alone.

Gonna leave here someday –

Go back home.

______________________________________________

Lyrics for my friend Brad Koehn's song "Go Back Home", April 26, 2015

Original poem, "April Fools" , April 1, 2015

Earthquakes, Volcanoes, and Springs

It’s raining again - April in Denton.
I’m shaking again - quakes in old downtown.
The world is smoking – Chilean volcanoes.
And I still got nowhere else to go
To get away from thoughts of you
And find some peace.

Light’s dripping again – filling the big bowl.
The roof is leaking – shakes are getting old.
I’m still asking why he attacks my soul,
But I still got no one who loves me so.
Just can’t take my mind off of you
And find some peace.

Water is falling again – it’s raining me in.
I’m dreaming again of mountain springs.
Flint’s breaking again – wilderness of Sin,
And I still got no fox hole to crawl in
To hide from a life without you.
I need some rest.

Chorus
I need some rest amidst the storm
Some comfort from my troubles.
I need to sit with someone warm
And enjoy
Some peace in all this turmoil.
______________________________________________
April 24, 2015

Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord,
at the presence of the God of Jacob,
who turns the rock into a pool of water,
the flint into a spring of water.

(Psalm 114:7-8 ESV)

Am I a Slave?

I wondered aloud,
Am I a slave or am I a freeman?
Who holds on to my leash
And won’t let me go?
So, I turned around
To see I was dragging a loved one
To be sold outside the gate
For a few shekels.

She Welcomes You

You, who fed her and you who did not,
You, who watched her play in the fields and kept her safe,
You, who just watched, spit, and laughed,

You, who shamed her and you who did not,
You, who sowed her pretty dresses from ugly sacks,
You, who told her not to come back,
She welcomes you.

You, who took her with you everywhere,
You, who taught her things she never wanted to know,
You, who should not have let her go,

You, who left her when she needed you,
You, who found her song and taught her to sing better,
You, who sought to stifle her spirit,
She welcomes you.

You, who told her to trust their kind plans,
You, who betrayed her; placed her in a filthy pen,
You, who freed her from all your sin,

You, who hypnotized and shocked her mind,
You, who tied her hands and then forced her in the van,
You, who sat for hours; held her hand,
She welcomes you.

And
You, who married her; became her hero,
You, who carried her when she was broken,
You, whom she rescued without you knowing,

She welcomes you.
Grace and peace to you,
Brothers, sisters, friends,
Who loved her well.
Doctors, officers, cruel men,
Who abused her – well,
Grace and peace to you,
She welcomes you.
Truly, she does.

_______________________________________

On behalf of my mother, her heavenly Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ; by the blessings of Grace carried to the hearts of the saints through the power of the Holy Spirit; and in honor of this, her birthday, I want to sincerely welcome you to the Kingdom Feast and the peace she enjoys by virtue of the forgiveness of sins.

Sepia Sunset

Sepia sunset -
Can you taste it?
The Light is like
Golden honey spread thin
On hot bread.

Congratulations, Dustin

Well, old friend, I heard you reached

A goal that most will never see,

The full repair of all you own; each

Mower finally has its filter dust free.

And for all your work you should be proud

Though wisdom says never to say aloud

That your to-do list is looking kind of empty

For free-loading spirits lurk in every crowd

And who knows but they might hear

That now you've got some working gear.

So, congrats, friend, and do you think tomorrow

I might drop by just to say hi and borrow

A few things to put in your aired-up wheel barrow,

Like well-oiled chainsaws or an unloaded trailer?

Some full-loaded nailers or a shotgun-not sawed off?

Perhaps some wild kid clothes or your chipped-dish washer?

What I’m really looking for is one of those fancy sweet-potato unmashers.

And look, friend - if you don’t mind, if you’re able - throw in a few

Six-foot folding tables or maybe that now-clamping wood workbench.

And how about that not-worn-out-wire-rope cable?

Really be best if you already had that wrapped on the winch.

Congratulations, Dustin.  

April Fools

I been yearning for a walk-about;

Ready for a change – time to move along,

Pick it up and put it down, head out

For the stars; Big Long Gone.

I been traveling for a billion years

Riding a hard old rock. It was such a long,

Long trip, but I can tell that now I’m here

That it’s time to head back home.

Gonna leave here someday -

Go it alone.

Maybe live in the wilderness

Where the water falls.

Maybe be the first one on Mars;

The last one alone.

Gonna leave here someday –

Go back home.

I know it won’t be easy now that

I blew through this world so fast.

Burned through the sky like

A meteorite; hit it hard; my life

Spread out across the pasture;

Setting the grass on fire. The light

Is such a curious thing. But sure,

I tried to keep it all together, son,

Every single day, but

I think I may have spilled some

Happiness along my murky way.

But still I feel that’s okay,

It’s all right.

All right.

Gonna leave here someday -

Go it alone.

Maybe live in the wilderness

Where the water falls.

Maybe be the first one on Mars;

The last one alone.

Gonna leave here someday –

Go back home.

__________________

April 1, 2015

80

Lord,

Forget your anger; calm our fears.

Give us life and remember –

Turn and face us; hear our prayers;

See our tears.

Lord,

Turn and face us; please redeem us.

Look and see us, please regard –

Reach and touch us; now restore us

To you.

Lord,

We’re your people, remember now

How you fed us; now sustain us –

Well-dried vine; water us now,

Lord.

Lord,

Please restore us, save us, please

Save, please save, please save, please

Save, turn and face us, please

Save, turn and face us, please

Save, please save, please save, please

Touch and restore us,

To you.

Psalm 80

fenceline

In my backyard there is a
Barbed-wire fence post falling down
To one side; crooked end showing black
On the leaves.
I bow my back there and I
Bring the post back standing up
And hide the crooked end, throwing bark
In the hole.

But I know it won’t stay upright –
There’s no way that it can –
And I really cannot say I care,
Because the fence line
Is broken in places and the pieces
Are still coiled from anger
And draped head-down over
The splitting stakes.

Now,
This is no poetic mistake.
These are my little crowns.
These are my hard-work life halos.
I hung their red-sprinkled spiral
Hollows on those rusted nails
To remind me of gentle Grace
Released to me a long time ago
From a callous grey gallows.
And most often, they do.

But I here admit that
Sometimes still I sit,
And think along that fence line,
Like when the coyote comes through
Now and then to bear away my fine friends,
Or toddlers that look just like mine
Run full toward their drowning.
Then, I am tempted to unwind
Some of that sharp, strict line
And put that wire fence back up,
At least, for a time.

I tell you, now –
It is my hope,
That though I built them not,
Some boundaries remain;
Although I sacrificed not,
Forgiveness and freedom still reign
In the lives of my children –
And in theirs.

This is my hope.
And I feel it is true,
For just beyond me I see
Blackberry briar hedges growing green
Beside a creek bending and flowing fast
In the rain.

The Ten Commandments

We sat in the back seat on the way there - not quite out of Dad's reach. When we got there, there were two long lines stretching from the entrance. We fell into the one on the wrong side of the highway, facing east, just off the shoulder of the west bound lane. As we inched forward, great clouds of summer dust rose up on the other side of the big wooden screen. The folks on the other side were doing what they could to get a good spot.

When we finally made it to the marquee, I thought we were getting close, but we weren't. Then I realized that the dust was starting to settle a bit; that dusk was settling in too. And I realized that, although we had been waiting forever, we still might not make it in time. It seems like I stared at that marquee for hours. Cecile B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments was written in brand new letters and the top part of the sign was whiter and brighter than the bottom section – new bulbs.

We bought tickets from one of the ladies walking to and fro along the gravel drive. When she came up to the window I noticed she was wearing a cotton nail apron with Morrison's Lumber Yard printed in bright red across the front. The apron was just like my dad used back in those days – except hers was new and clean and still kind of flat, like it had been pressed with an iron. It may have been the first time I had ever seen a fresh work apron. By the time I would see them, usually sitting in my spot on the vinyl seat next to Dad or piled with his hammers on the floorboard of the Jimmy, Dad's aprons were dirty and worn. By then, the tie string ends and the inside of the pockets would already be stained with all possible combinations of sweat, tar, and nail rust. Her apron was full of cash, coins, and ticket stubs and looked like it had never held a single handful of sixteen penny nails. We finally made it past the actual ticket booth, but it was really starting to get dark and we were still surrounded on all sides by slow moving family cars.

Suddenly, Dad glanced over his right shoulder, said something to Mom about avoiding the deep ruts, and looped wide to the outside of the half-dozen slow pokes still in front of us. He was a full car-width out in the weeds. Once we cleared the edge of the six-foot tall corrugated metal fence we saw that the theater was packed. Cartoons were over; previews were ending -- the movie was starting.

Once we found an open spot – at this point, the choices were always too close or too far back – Dad pulled up, rolled down his window, quickly pulled the speaker through the window and flipped the volume switch – then we moved on to the next spot. After a few tries, we found a working speaker. Dad turned the car around, got out, rolled down the back window, pulled down the tailgate, hung the speaker on the window, and we settled in to watch the movie. Dad took my brother and me with him to the restroom on the dark side of the concession stand – an off-white cinder-block building in the middle of the drive-in. I won’t try to describe the restroom there, but there was a reason Dad kept telling us to go to the restroom before we left the house. Mom wouldn’t go or take my sister there unless it was an absolute emergency. When we came out of the restroom, we immediately got in line for food. It was hard for me to see the screen while in line, but the sound was actually better right there since they had hung extra car speakers on each corner of the building.

It was a great movie even though it was hard for me to understand why God would kill the Egyptian children just because Yule Brynner had a hard heart. When it was over, there was another mass exodus – not between great walls of seawater, but instead around each side of the giant screen. Most folks stayed until the end; the lines were longer and slower. The westbound traffic ran all the way down Fourth Street into downtown Graham where only a few cars at a time were able to make it through the various traffic lights. It seemed like it took forever for us to just make our way onto the highway.

Although exiting traffic was a real mess, people were on their best behavior – there were no teenagers leaning out of their cars yelling obscenities, the locations of lake parties, or the like. It was not as solemn as a funeral progression, but it was close. Reverence seemed appropriate for such an occasion. After all, we had all just seen staffs turn to serpents, seven plagues come and go, and the Angel of Death pass over a family breaking bread under the blood of a lamb. We had seen God part the Red Sea; had seen Glory in Moses’ face as he drew the people out, and had watched the Law burned into stone while God’s chosen people sculpted a calf of gold.

On the way home, we lay in the back of the station-wagon, half-asleep on the clean thin sheets and comfy pillows that Mom always insisted we take on those rare trips to the Graham Drive-In. Behind and in-front of us, an endless caravan of headlights branched, divided, and branched again. Dads went in the houses first and turned on the porch lights. The stars came out and constellations filled up in the sky. We looked out the windows and counted the other shooting stars on the road home to Newcastle.
______________________

March 8, 2014

Twelve Bulls

They fasted there, at the river Ahava,
They humbled themselves before their
God, to seek from him a safe journey
For themselves, their children,
And all their good things, for
“The hand of our God is for good
on all who seek him,
and the power of his wrath is
against all who forsake him.”

So
They fasted and implored their God
For this, and he listened to their
Entreaty, to give them safe journey
For themselves, their children,
And all the good things, for
“The hand of our God is for good
on all who seek him,
and the power of his wrath is
against all who forsake him.”

The captives escaped;
The exiles returned
And they offered there
Burnt offerings to God;
Twelve bulls for Israel
Ninety-six rams
Seventy-seven lambs
And
A dozen male goats.

They offered
Burnt offerings to God.

For
“The hand of our God is for good
on all who seek him,
and the power of his wrath is
against all who forsake him.”

The captives escaped;
The exiles returned
And they delivered
Messages for God;
Commissions to kings,
And provincial governors –
Beyond the River –
Aid to the people
And
To the house of God.

They delivered
These messages for God.

For
“The hand of our God is for good
on all who seek him,
and the power of his wrath is
against all who forsake him.”

The captives escaped;
The exiles returned
To seek God
By a river.

________________________________

Ezra 8

For God Shows No Partiality

He will render to each one
According to his works
Glory and honor and peace for everyone who does good.
Glory and honor and peace for everyone
The Jew first and also the Greek
Tribulation and distress for every human being who does evil
Tribulation and distress for every human being
The Jew first and also the Greek
But
Glory and honor and peace for everyone
Who does good.
Who does good.
Glory and honor and peace for everyone who does good.

The Jew first and also the Greek
For God shows no partiality.
The Jew first and also the Greek
The Jew first and also the Greek

Eternal life for those who by patience seek in well-doing.
Glory and honor and immortality.
The Jew first and also the Greek
Wrath and fury for those who do not obey the truth
Wrath and fury for those who do not obey –
The Jew first and also the Greek –
But seek themselves and obey
Unrighteousness.
Wrath and fury for those who seek themselves!
For those who do not obey
The truth –
Wrath and fury –
The Jew first and also the Greek -
But
Eternal life for those who seek patiently
In well-doing
In well-doing
For those who seek peace, tranquility
For those who seek life, immortality
For those who seek truth, honor
For those who seek others, glory

The Jew first and also the Greek
For God shows no partiality.
The Jew first and also the Greek
The Jew first and also the Greek
For God shows no partiality.
____________________________________


He will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; but for those who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, there will be wrath and fury. There will be tribulation and distress for every human being who does evil, the Jew first and also the Greek, but glory and honor and peace for everyone who does good, the Jew first and also the Greek. For God shows no partiality.
(Romans 2:6-11 ESV)

Prayer for Transparency

I pray that my Heart be made Transparent and my Flesh not veil the Image of the Spirit at work there.  For the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son and, upon divine command, precedes Them into the Chaotic, Unclean and Broken Hearts of his Children.  The Spirit goes there to “prepare a Room” for the Holy Trinity – to build and sanctify within us a Holy of Holies that is accessible to both Man and God and, by virtue of the Atoning Life of Christ, is made available and visible to this Fallen World. From there – from the Seat of Grace and the Fountain of Mercy – springs the Kingdom of Heaven on this Earth. And when our Time is full, and Death has been finally drowned in the Love of Christ, the Lord will make a new Earth, a Blessed and Fruitful Garden Home, where we will dwell and worship with Him beside the River of Life.

You Promised

Can you hear me groaning
As I pull against this heavy chain?
Do you remember me, Lord?
I’m the one you heard moaning
Down here on Berry Lane.
Did you forget about me, Lord?
Looks like you did.
I can’t say that I’m surprised.
You aren’t the first to break their word
To me.
But once I looked into your eyes
I expected something better – you know?
Really thought you might come back
To get me.

You promised me.
You promised me.
I knew this would happen.
I told you this would happen,
But you said, “No. You can
Trust me, I promise. I promise you.”
But where are you now?
I miss you.

Do you see me walking
Alone here on this desert plane?
Do you want to see me, Love?
Or were you really just fooling
Around when you said my name
Like you loved it.
I can’t say that I’m surprised.
You aren’t the first to hurt me, Love;
Break me.
But once I looked into your eyes
I expected something different – you know?
Really thought you might come back
To find me.

You promised me.
You promised me.
I knew this would happen.
I told you this would happen,
But you said, “No. You can
Trust me, I promise. I promise you.”
But where are you now?
I miss you.

You promised me.
You promised.

________________________________________________

And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel—and God knew.

(Exodus 2:24-25 ESV)

For this reason, therefore, I have asked to see you and speak with you, since it is because of the hope of Israel that I am wearing this chain.”

(Acts 28:20 ESV)

Your Birthday Blues

Maybe

I should make you dinner,

But you know I can’t cook.

Well I could make pasta

If we just had sauce – I’ll look

In the pantry, I guess.

Yes, well,

I could go to the store,

But, hey, it’s still snowing.

I could order pizza;

But Dominos take too long,

Don’t they?

I know

This might be a winner –

You’ll go crazy for a book.

Don’t even need to ask you

Because, well, there’s that look

You might give me.

Maybe

I could write you a story,

Oh right, just a poem,

But the way this is going

The rhythm will be all wrong.

You see?

Maybe

We should just run away – just go.

We could drive to Colorado again.

I don’t care if it is freezing rain,

Maybe it will turn back to snow

When we get to Amarillo.

Oh no,

Can’t get into this winter;

Been no rainbows in our brook.

No point in even casting –

We’re out of line, lures and hooks

And our tackle’s all a mess.

Sure, we’ll

Talk about getting more

Right after we get the loan,

But you know there is a chance

The bank won’t answer a phone

Call from us.

Maybe

We should run away – just go.

We could drive to Platoro again.

I don’t care if it is freezing rain.

Maybe it will turn back to snow

Once we hit Antonito.

Yes, well,

It’s your birthday once again

So I’m a little blue,

And if there was one thing

I could get you –

Something that’s not the same

I would carry you far away –

To a place that’s running out

Of your particular brand

of pain.

Maybe

We should run away – just go.

We could drive to Ruidoso again.

I don’t care if it is freezing rain.

Maybe it will turn back to snow

Once we reach New Mexico.

I think we could make it.

Don’t you?

_________________________________________________

Started before the birthday, finished a few days late, of course.

Stew of Great Value

Once there was a young servant in the Court

 of the great and mighty Capital,

Who, on his short lunch Break, found

 a rare Pearl in his stew worth Thousands,

So he went and sold all that he had

 and bought the Pot,

And when that first Day was over, he went

 and buried his Future in an

 Abandoned college Field.

But when he went back to the little Town

 to redeem his Hopes,

He didn't have any more Money

With which to buy into that Field so

 Nothing else came of it.

[Times are hard down here

 for the barely-working Man.]

There was a headline on CNN.com yesterday titled, “Officer finds rare pearl in stew worth thousands”

Onan

Onan,
You spilled your love
Upon the ground
Just to keep your brother
Down -
Another murder
In the land
Another family under
Ground.

You
Are a killer – slowly
Starving all the children
The Lord placed in your hands for
Their care;
Lying to their mother
About your good name.
Have you no shame?

Onan,
I am wondering,
Have you no shame?
I’ve got a feeling that
Someday you’re going to get
What’s coming to you.

Onan,
You know this can’t be right –
Holding back your kindness
From the woman you were given to love
For just a little while.
Don’t you know that this night
The widow has the keys to
The Kingdom of heaven in her spirit,
Her unsuspecting smile.

You
could lift their heads - so lowly;
Saving all his children.
You’d rather throw your life away
Than share,
Than give wealth to another’s,
Someone else’s, name.
Have you no shame?

Oh Man,
I am wondering,
Have you no shame?
I’ve got a feeling that
Someday you’re going to get
What’s coming to you.


____________________________

(Genesis 38, Matthew 1:1-17)


Then Judah said to Onan, “Go in to your brother's wife and perform the duty of a brother-in-law to her, and raise up offspring for your brother.” But Onan knew that the offspring would not be his. So whenever he went in to his brother's wife he would waste the semen on the ground, so as not to give offspring to his brother. And what he did was wicked in the sight of the LORD, and he put him to death also.

(Genesis 38:8-10 ESV)
When the time of her labor came, there were twins in her womb. And when she was in labor, one put out a hand, and the midwife took and tied a scarlet thread on his hand, saying, “This one came out first.” But as he drew back his hand, behold, his brother came out. And she said, “What a breach you have made for yourself!” Therefore his name was called Perez. Afterward his brother came out with the scarlet thread on his hand, and his name was called Zerah.

(Genesis 38:27-30 ESV)

Perez means “the breach”.

The Genealogy of Jesus Christ

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Ram, and Ram the father of Amminadab, and Amminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David the king.

And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah, and Solomon the father of Rehoboam, and Rehoboam the father of Abijah, and Abijah the father of Asaph, and Asaph the father of Jehoshaphat, and Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, and Joram the father of Uzziah, and Uzziah the father of Jotham, and Jotham the father of Ahaz, and Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, and Hezekiah the father of Manasseh, and Manasseh the father of Amos, and Amos the father of Josiah, and Josiah the father of Jechoniah and his brothers, at the time of the deportation to Babylon.

And after the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Shealtiel, and Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel, and Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, and Abiud the father of Eliakim, and Eliakim the father of Azor, and Azor the father of Zadok, and Zadok the father of Achim, and Achim the father of Eliud, and Eliud the father of Eleazar, and Eleazar the father of Matthan, and Matthan the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ.

So all the generations from Abraham to David were fourteen generations, and from David to the deportation to Babylon fourteen generations, and from the deportation to Babylon to the Christ fourteen generations.

(Matthew 1:1-17 ESV)

Always in My Way

There are so many roads-
Too many paths for me.
Even worse, I already know
There’s nobody to walk with
That’ll wait on me,
Listen to my story; just talk to me.

Fingers point, “Here’s the way.”
But I can’t follow it, I can’t find it;
Jesus is standing
In my way.
Standing,
Standing,
Standing
In my way.

There are things out here
That I can't bear to see -
People hurt; people live in fear.
It's more than I can deal with
Especially
When they are so dear to me.

“You should have hope”, they say.
But I can’t picture it, I can’t see it;
Jesus is always
In my way.
Always,
Always,
Always
In my way.

Necessary Arrows

Love, your arrows have sunk into me.
They are buried now so deep.
And there was sour poison on them
It’s wearing down this poor vessel,
Etching thin these hard clay walls,
And burning up my heart.

Is all that really necessary?
They say…they say it is.
Those arrows must find
Their purchase.

Love, I don’t want to fear your hand-
Never thought you’d touch this way.
Those sharp points at your fingertips -
Glistening red; caught my eye and All,
Sweetly tearing through my flesh
Just running through my hair.

Is all that really necessary?
Perhaps…perhaps it is.
Your affections are arrayed
Against me.

Love, I have never tried to run from you.
Why do you still hunt me in my sleep?
You seem so intent to go on then
Chasing me when you know I’ll fall,
Gathering all your kind lessons
To drive straight through my heart.

Is that really necessary?
It seems rough…rough sometimes.
It’s not for me to say I
Deserve it.

Love, will you let me take your hand someday?
Will you please hold me tight again – today?
I dream still that I can feel your lips
Brushing mine when there was no law
Between our souls. Happiness
Is having you right here –
Right here.

Is all this really necessary?
Yes, I think it is. I think it is.
It is necessary
For you to love me.

____________________________________________

Vicki’s Valentine

O LORD, rebuke me not in your anger,
nor discipline me in your wrath!
For your arrows have sunk into me,
and your hand has come down on me.
(Psalm 38:1-2 ESV)

For the arrows of the Almighty are in me;
my spirit drinks their poison;
the terrors of God are arrayed against me.
(Job 6:4)

Divided Tongues of Fire

On that one occasion, they were sitting all together,
God’s patriots, every now and then overdoing it
In lawful celebration of their godly good nature
And the blessings of their apostolic Jew vocations.
But terrified, they must have surely exclaimed
When the door blew open and a wild wind came inside,
Filled the room to running over,
And set them all on fire.

Flowing rivers of fire
Lit up their solemn faces;
Finally got their attention
Divided tongues of fire
Lifted up their silent voices;
Started charismatic conversations
Divided tongues of fire
Rested on each one there;
Burnt their faithless hearts alive.

On that one occasion, we were praying there together,
Proud zealots, every now and then really believing it,
In anticipation thereof - God’s good nature -
And his patience with our new apostatic nation
But terrified, we were most sorely ashamed
When the spirit broke through and made us look back inside,
Filled our minds and took us over
And set us, each, on fire.

Flowing rivers of fire
Lite up our solemn faces
Finally! Get our attention!
Divided tongues of fire
Lift up our silent voices;
Start some new conversations
Divided tongues of fire
Come rest on each of us here,
Burn our faithless hearts alive.

__________________________________________________

The Coming of the Holy Spirit

When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place. And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.

(Acts 2:1-4 ESV)

Lema - the Cry

And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34 ESV)

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Only a few moments before his death, Jesus made this desperate cry from the cross. Bystanders heard the cry – “Jesus cried with a loud voice” – but they did not understand. 

A thousand years before Jesus, another condemned man made that same forlorn cry. David was barely more than a boy when he became the underdog hero of Israel – the humble shepherd and undersized slayer of Philistine giants. But David’s popularity made Saul, the anointed king of Israel, so insane with jealousy that he risked everything – his life, his kingdom, his legacy, and even his own son – to pursue his rival. And although David had several opportunities to physically defend himself, even to destroy and overthrow Saul, he didn’t. Instead, David fled.  

David allowed himself to become a wanted man, an innocent fugitive, running for his very life from men who had once been like brothers to him. David fled, and somewhere outside Naoith near Ramah – only a few miles from Jerusalem, the Holy City, the City of Peace, the city that would one day bear his name – David crouched down in the fields of ripening grain, hid from his friends, prayed and cried. 

I’ve felt like that – like I am being persecuted for no reason, like I am trapped by enemies and even friends – so I can at least imagine how David might have felt when he cried, “Why me, Lord?  Why am I here – sitting on this pile of rocks in these god-forsaken fields? Why am I just hiding here watching these crazy arrows fly over my head? Why am I here, alone, tired, hungry and afraid – just sitting around waiting for that time to say goodbye to my last friend.”   

And so, David cried there – there in the fields outside the city. He cried and wept and then went on. He went on until he couldn’t go any more; he stumbled starving out of the wilderness looking for something to eat. Perhaps there is help in the house of the Lord?  And there was indeed food there. David was offered the only food available; the bread of the Presence, bread that was specially set apart for the Lord to share with his consecrated children.  But by the time David got to it, the holy bread had already gone stale. He took it anyway – in this strange communion of the Pursued – because that’s all there was. 

And still David ran on – this time to a region called Gath. And there, David, the famous hero of Israel, hid from his friends and enemies again; this time in plain sight – in a palace under the very nose of a king who thought David mad because he scratched strange images onto the expensive palace doors and tended to let spittle run down his chin. But David was still afraid, so he fled again. He fled to a place known as Adullam, and there, David, the future great king of Israel and the primogenitor of the legendary Davidic line, hid in a glorified pit – in a cold, damp cave in the mountains. 

Why did David run in the first place? Why didn’t he just stand and fight? David ran to buy time – to give his persecutor time to come to his senses, to give Saul time to change his mind. He ran to give the Spirit the ordained time to speak truth and grace into the lives of the blessed so that they might all be called out of their condemnation.  So David cried, and then he ran and hid for the sake of his own life, for the sake of his beloved king and master, for the sake of the kingdom, and for the sake of his mission – that is God’s will for him.  By all accounts, David knew when to cry and went to stop crying. He knew when to make a stand for the Lord and he knew when to humbly stand down for the sake of peace.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” A thousand years before Jesus, David, the divinely anointed king of Israel, made this same desperate call to the Lord.  David may have written this glorious poem as he fled Saul’s hatred and persecution or he may have actually written it many years later. Regardless of when the poem was completed or initially recorded, that first pleading verse is so honest, so emotionally real, that I can’t help from feel that it first sprang directly from the depths of David’s soul in the midst of his tribulation – perhaps while he was sitting on that pile of rocks in those ancient grain fields.

And two thousand years after Jesus’ death, mankind still cries to the heavens, “If you are there; if you love me, why would you abandon me to these afflictions – to this pain, to this hell?” We ask. We plead. We say we just can’t understand. But that doesn't mean God can't hear or understand us.

For he has not despised or abhorred

     the affliction of the afflicted,

  and he has not hidden his face from him,

    but has heard, when he cried to him.

  (Psalm 22:24 ESV)  

But there is much more to that psalm than just a pathetic, seemingly unanswerable, question.  That mortal cry – that fundamental existential interrogative – is answered fully in the verses that follow.  It is answered to the complete satisfaction of the afflicted, to the shame of his persecutors, to the wonder of a host of witnesses, to the blessing of many nations, and for the glory of God.  David’s poem – his heartbreaking song and Jesus’ sorrowful singing of it on his cross – is not just a panicked cry and anxious lament of the afflicted. It is a statement of faith – it’s a song that moves from the anguish of spiritual estrangement to the triumph that is life in the divine family. It is a humble testimony that begins and ends with many tears.

And in the same way that David asked and answered his own question in the psalm, I believe God asks and answers that same crucial question in the real life, suffering, resurrection and return of Jesus Christ. The Life of Christ – which is my life now – necessarily begins and ends with many tears. 

But I need not worry, for I have God’s good word that Christ’s ultimate return and earthly reign will begin soon enough and will bring with it the end of all tears. So even now – even in these days that seem full of trouble – I am comforted.  

Lord, I pray that I may hear and understand.  I look forward to hearing you sing this song in person, especially the last couple of verses.

_________________________________

(Mark 15:34, 1 Samuel 19-22, Psalm 22 ESV)

Lema

I’m sitting here on this pile of rocks

In the middle of this old field –

Waiting for a sign from you –

But I can’t see very far from here.

Now, I can’t see my future. 

Me?

No, I can’t see a damn thing.

But I still hear the whistle

Of the missiles flying over 

My head.

Yes, and I know what that means.

It’s time to go, time for me to run-

Time to say goodbye to you

For now.

I’m was hoping you'd have a smile for me – 

A little kindness in a world too real –

Praying for a sign from you

That will help me get from there to here.

No, I can’t see my future.

Me?

Now I can’t see a damn thing.

But I can’t help from wishing

You are still crying over

My loss.

Yes, nobody likes to get kicked out

But it happens in this life
I got to learn to accept it-
To survive it
Some how.

So, if you could stop shooting at me-

If you stop shouting for just awhile-

I’ll get going, I know you feel

That I should resign that you

And I won’t get very far together.

I know you can see our future

We?

No, I can’t see a damn thing.

But I still hear your whispers;

Feel your kisses falling on

My face.

And I know what that means.

It’s time to go, time for me to run-

Time to say goodbye to you

For now.
Yes, nobody likes to get kicked out
But it happens in this life
I got to learn to accept it-
To survive it
Some how.

1 Samuel 20

Barefoot Shadow-Twin

my little jane
wears a mock pearl necklace
and a red lacy dress
when she dances with her
barefoot shadow-twin.


_______________________________
for Jane DeLong Snyder
written for Janie way back on July 12, 1991

Sketch

There’s a picture in my mind

That will never find a canvas

Besides the one we found together

Around our sun-washed mornings

Coming through the trees out back.

So, I am finished with this sketch of you

And it wasn’t all I could see,

But it was all that I could draw –

In this one real

 short day.

There’s a love song in my heart

That will never reach another

Because the one it was written for

Isn’t ‘round here any longer

And is never coming back.

Yes, I am finished with this song for you

And it wasn’t all that I heard,

But it was all that I could say –

In this one real

 short day.

Out With the Old

(or How the Hermit Saved New Year's)

I was just dropping off to sleep for my sunrise power nap when the unmistakable rumble of the garbage truck broke through my music-filled ear buds. Realizing that I had forgotten to put the garbage out at the end of 2014, I ran outside to the carport, grabbed the dumpster and rolled it to the dark and curbless street edge, its wheels clattering on the paving stone courtyard so much that I was afraid it would wake my daughter and her husband who were staying in our apartment over the holiday.  The recycling bin, with a clatter voice all its own, followed soon thereafter. Then, thinking only of my family and completely forgetting myself, I went back into our home through the front door and somehow managed to retrieve a stranded bag from the kitchen - the floor of which was covered completely with cold blue tile.

Setting the barely-bursting bag beside the others, I realized that it was now drizzling rain. Thinking quickly, as though I had already had my morning coffee, I deduced that the garbage men, fearful of the dreaded “black ice” that had been extensively pre-reported on yesterday’s evening news, had started their rounds at least an hour earlier than normal. (I do not want to assume the worst; but there are suspicions that by starting its trash run very early or on an irregular schedule, the garbage truck intends to catch folks unawares and thereby lighten its load and shorten its shift on this, the most precious of football-watching holidays.) A brief glance to left and right told me what I already knew. Many of my neighbors had failed, like I had, but for their own pathetic reasons, to put out their garbage. 

We have not been the best of neighbors over the years. Ours is the yard with grass not green, carport cluttered, and driveway overflowing. Ours is the house with gutters always full and siding still disintegrating. Ours are the kids that scream, doors that slam, dogs that bark, leaves that pile, and chimney that smokes. After our youngest left, we even retreated from the front lines of our little community; desperately hiding in hope that our covered psychological wounds would heal; having to force ourselves to venture out even to wrangle colorful but eggless chickens and to bounce on the “jump-o-line” with our precious grand-girls. No, we no longer boost the band, sit in the stands, stand in the cold, or poke pro and con signs in our yard. We no longer attend city council sessions to fight for the principle that water should be allowed to drain downhill, that all roads should be drivable (even ours), and that such principles are inherently related by common sense, for heaven’s sake.  No, we have not been the best of neighbors.

So, standing there in the dark and nearly-frozen drizzle, my mind reeled at the thought of all my failures. And although righteous conviction had already begun its efficient and ruthless attack on my conscience, my mind began to fill with the limitless hope that comes with a new day and a new year. So I girded my loins and set about to change things - to turn things around and to set things right with my neighbors. But time was short. I knew I had only one shot at this. I could now clearly make out the familiar squeal of the worn-out brakes on the garbage truck as it worked its way down the street next over from ours.

Moving as quickly as my foam slippers would allow, I ran from home to home, door to door, sounding the vital alarm. At each house I stopped only long enough to ring the doorbell, pound on the storm door or an available bedroom window and cry as loud as I could, “Out with the old! In with the new! Though it be New Year’s Day, this is still our day, people! Yes, it is Thursday and the garbage truck is coming!” 

I must admit that I was inspired, in no small way, by the thought of how lucky I was to play even this small part in the life of my friends.  How fortunate was Paul Revere! How blessed were the prophets of old! And these warm thoughts – though burning within my soul now so as to forge within me a will of stone – near spoiled my plan; my eyes being half blinded and my voice choked by the emotions they produced.

I cannot convey to you the power and sincerity of the collective neighborhood response. May our neighborhood be filled with such gratitude, perhaps even more so, for the rest of 2015 and for many years to come! Now, truth be told, I didn’t actually wait around to see the garbage pails rolled to the street or to hear what I was sure would be praise to the point of embarrassment – humility forbade it. Besides, at some point I remembered, which is quite unlike me and thus further evidence of my transformation, that I had left a cup of 2014 coffee heating in the microwave and that, by now, there would be a bell ringing that my wife could surely hear and appreciate.

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for my family and friends on New Year's Day