{15} Thank God for warm atmospheres—cozy nooks to curl up with a drink and some idle purpose of your choosing.
{16} For relaxation—the ability to simply lay back, loosen the muscles, and do no more than be still and comfortable, even if only for a while.
{17} For life-mates: those whom we share our day to day with, surrounded by the warm, unpressured atmosphere of familiarity.
{18} Thank You for moonlight, and the manner in which it illuminates everything in a cold, enchanting glow. Its reflection on the dark water seems almost magical: a call for mermaids and sirens to rise of the depths—or sea monsters, perhaps. Funny how all beauty seems to bear the possibility of the frightening, no doubt a reflection of its Creator.
{19} For the words of the ancients, preserved on pages through time. Thanks for all, of course—Aristotle, Caedmon, etcetera, etcetera—but especially for those people of God preserved in His Word. It is strangely beautiful, how I may read the words of David and think, "ah, good... he felt it too. This distress is not new. It is ancient, even." And there is something soothing in having the unknown ancients made known as brothers in arms.
{20} Thank You for lineage, the passing for mother to daughter, father to son. It is so simple, and yet so thrilling: standing with your mother in the kitchen, asking questions and soaking in knowledge. I felt a warmth spread to the very tips of my toes, thinking of how some of her vast wisdom was gained from her mother, and her mother before that, all the way back to the first woman who learned to preserve the food her family needed in a jar. It's these times which make me feel what a shame it is that the just struggle for women's rights has given so many a bad taste for the kitchen. For it is here and so many other "sexist" settings that we have our dearest, oldest right of womanhood: to learn from our mothers.
{21} I thank God for stories about nothing.* After so much time straining to understand the intricacies driving the action in this movie or that novel, it is refreshing, from time to time, to stumble upon a story about nothing in particular. Before realizing I find myself asking, "Where is the plot?", almost frustrated. But then it comes to me—"Ah, there is no plot. It isn't really about anything, just life. And, you know, I don't really mind in the slightest."
*If anyone is curious, the book I'm currently reading in this category is The Little White Bird by J.M. Barrie, the author of Peter Pan. If you want to laugh and read about nothing in particular in the life of a quirky, humorous author, I would highly recommend it.
Monday, September 26, 2016
Saturday, September 10, 2016
A Thousand Reasons: Canto II
Life taught me again how hectic it can be. So here are the seven "gratitudes" I've managed the last two weeks, and God forgive me for not making the time to be more grateful.
Canto II
{8} I thank God, almost regularly, for discussion. The mental sharpening of iron on iron is exercise for the brain that has no equal. To be forced to put your thoughts, ideas, and beliefs into words is the best way to know what you think and believe. And the discussions I thank God for are those where the other minds at work share an understanding, not of "Let me convince you to think my way," but, "Let us stumble together with words and concepts until we both know better what you and I think."
{9} Thanks be to God that "I have something that makes saying goodbye so difficult."*
{10} For the ability to forget--that these moments of of corruption need not stay vivid forever. Praise be to God that the devil's "Ah, but look what you did yesterday" simply doesn't hurt the same when it is "Ah, but look what you did __ days ago." We forget a bit how the guilt tasted. And there is a bit of danger in that, of course. If we forget past guilt we can become proud and stumble again. But man can corrupt all gifts, and there's wonder in this one too--in how God himself hears our regret and says, "What mistake? You confessed before, and I've forgotten it already, silly. Certainly, I know all, but there are things we need not remember forever, you and I."
{11}I thank God we live in a world of broad horizons. Oh the joy of those days we glimpse them, when God throws back the scales from our eyes and says, "Look and all these possibilities and choices before you. What are you quivering for, child? They aren't meant to frighten or burden you! Stop fretting over 'just right' and step forward. You aren't a machine, needing just the right design. You are an explorer, and there's a whole new world to be discovered here."
{12} For bedhead--a chance to be roused from morning stupor with a chance to laugh at yourself, which is always a better start than taking yourself too seriously.
{13} Elyon,** You have my thanks for the eyes of childhood: that perception which makes everything seem larger and more full of wonder. There are few things so warming to the heart as a child looking upon something you've done for them--some slapdash project you were hardly even trying for--and then looking back at you with those bright, wonder-filled eyes and saying in a tone hushed by awe, "Can you teach me how to do that?"
{14} For campfires--the earthy, wholesome scent of wood smoke and the dancing light of an open flame. I love how the flickering movements are a performance in an of themselves in the dark, darting about in a primal, wild show that men have watched under the stars for centuries. Oh the beauty of the sparks' flight, cascading upward as if you join the galaxies and make stars of their own.
* This is a quote which I believed, until just now, was said by Winnie the Pooh or some other Milne character. But in my research to find out which stuffed character actually said it, I discovered it isn't a Milne quote at all, and isn't even originally said that way. However, I love that word choice, and it isn't one i constructed, so I left it on quotations marks :)
**"Elyon" is one of the Hebrew names for God. It translates to something like "the most high God." Probably due to my love for foreign and magical sounding words, I developed a love for it some years ago and use it fairly often. It's come to feel like my own personal name for him, something like a nickname but not near as flippant as that. I'm not really sure how to explain what it means to me, except to say that I call God by that name in my happiest and darkest moments, when I am feeling most sincere.
Canto II
{8} I thank God, almost regularly, for discussion. The mental sharpening of iron on iron is exercise for the brain that has no equal. To be forced to put your thoughts, ideas, and beliefs into words is the best way to know what you think and believe. And the discussions I thank God for are those where the other minds at work share an understanding, not of "Let me convince you to think my way," but, "Let us stumble together with words and concepts until we both know better what you and I think."
{9} Thanks be to God that "I have something that makes saying goodbye so difficult."*
{10} For the ability to forget--that these moments of of corruption need not stay vivid forever. Praise be to God that the devil's "Ah, but look what you did yesterday" simply doesn't hurt the same when it is "Ah, but look what you did __ days ago." We forget a bit how the guilt tasted. And there is a bit of danger in that, of course. If we forget past guilt we can become proud and stumble again. But man can corrupt all gifts, and there's wonder in this one too--in how God himself hears our regret and says, "What mistake? You confessed before, and I've forgotten it already, silly. Certainly, I know all, but there are things we need not remember forever, you and I."
{11}I thank God we live in a world of broad horizons. Oh the joy of those days we glimpse them, when God throws back the scales from our eyes and says, "Look and all these possibilities and choices before you. What are you quivering for, child? They aren't meant to frighten or burden you! Stop fretting over 'just right' and step forward. You aren't a machine, needing just the right design. You are an explorer, and there's a whole new world to be discovered here."
{12} For bedhead--a chance to be roused from morning stupor with a chance to laugh at yourself, which is always a better start than taking yourself too seriously.
{13} Elyon,** You have my thanks for the eyes of childhood: that perception which makes everything seem larger and more full of wonder. There are few things so warming to the heart as a child looking upon something you've done for them--some slapdash project you were hardly even trying for--and then looking back at you with those bright, wonder-filled eyes and saying in a tone hushed by awe, "Can you teach me how to do that?"
{14} For campfires--the earthy, wholesome scent of wood smoke and the dancing light of an open flame. I love how the flickering movements are a performance in an of themselves in the dark, darting about in a primal, wild show that men have watched under the stars for centuries. Oh the beauty of the sparks' flight, cascading upward as if you join the galaxies and make stars of their own.
* This is a quote which I believed, until just now, was said by Winnie the Pooh or some other Milne character. But in my research to find out which stuffed character actually said it, I discovered it isn't a Milne quote at all, and isn't even originally said that way. However, I love that word choice, and it isn't one i constructed, so I left it on quotations marks :)
**"Elyon" is one of the Hebrew names for God. It translates to something like "the most high God." Probably due to my love for foreign and magical sounding words, I developed a love for it some years ago and use it fairly often. It's come to feel like my own personal name for him, something like a nickname but not near as flippant as that. I'm not really sure how to explain what it means to me, except to say that I call God by that name in my happiest and darkest moments, when I am feeling most sincere.
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