Vandercar

Sometimes, i think He’s laughing at me … then … i try to laugh along. Thanks for the pic grandma!

Come late afternoon he again found that cold rock and silently sat staring into the natural wonders of which he knew so little. The rising chill that precedes dusk haunted him again with the questions. Whenever did he let bitterness so root itself within? Could the love he had once known find a way to weave itself through the thorns? Would the bed of brambles continue to keep him from the comfort of the safe place? Looking back on the past years, he recalled passing moments of this journey, and as justification wrestled with shame, he had to admit that he was slowly and so skillfully led astray of the good ground. So it was such that this near imperceptible invasion had been strangling all that he had once known as good. Hope had been wounded and he wearied of holding to the truth that most things hidden are greater than those we see or know moment by moment. And now, as the breath of hope grew shallow, faith fought on under the shadow of the held high arms of grace.

There were days when he thought that maybe the life and love he had once known would return, but he would only briefly and vainly strive to convince himself of the lie. He knew that tomorrow would only hold a dry sky and a barren horizon. The sunrise would reveal that much of what he had once known was but an image he had been attempting to construct … stage props. How could he ever think that he might deceive himself in such a way as to live this momentary life in his own way. Certainly the Maker of him had made better things for him than were within the reach of his own powers and longings. This was the moment in his life when he came to know that he must step into the wild. He must walk to a place where he could no longer be the master of things unseen and where he could find himself nowhere but in need. Surrender was a word that now seemed so unfamiliar to him. He thought that maybe if the coming days could teach him anything, it would be that tomorrow is a gift, today is akin to eternity, and yesterday is the reminder. Thinking these things, he faded to sleep and hoped that when he awoke all might be well. He might again embrace joy, might again be brushed with the comfort of peace and might again find the deep well within – from which springs the genuine love first given him.

In many ways … he is me. Come, Lord Jesus.

i can’t seem to cease this wandering. Where will the good Lord take me tomorrow. Recently, during my first trip to the Northwest, i made an airport purchase of George Eliot”s classic Silas Marner. i found a bittersweet sense of kinship at the introduction of Silas …

George Eliot, Silas Marner
Even people whose lives have been made various by learning, sometimes find it hard to keep a fast hold on their habitual views of life, on their faith in the Invisible – nay, on the sense that their past joys and sorrows are a real experience, when they are suddenly transported to a new land, where the beings around them know nothing of their history, and share none of their ideas – where their mother earth shows another lap, and human life has other forms than those on which their souls have been nourished. Minds that have been unhinged from their old faith and love have perhaps sought this Lethean influence of exile in which the past becomes dreamy because its symbols have all vanished, and the present too is dreamy because it is linked with no memories.

Upon my return to Indiana this past week, i was welcomed by the playful spirits of Emma & Evia. What a joy! May the coming days usher in joy upon joy and may i embrace the adventure of the unknown.