I cannot find the Spring

I cannot find the Spring, though I search among the stale, white halls,
and I feel it not in stony silence that answers me from bare, gray walls.
These do not seem the living greens my eyes would drink like cool spring water,
nor caress as the breeze that shivered leaves like whispered words from virgin lover.

The breathless blast of conditioned air and rigid back of office chair
languish beneath the sterile rays of pallid bulbs' fluorescent glare;
somehow unlike forgiving waves that beckoned me to pause and lay
beneath the yellow-scented jasmine and keen embrace of warm sun's ray.

I cannot find the Spring, and now I cannot quite recall
when Winter annulled the ease of Summer and revoked the ruddy leaves of Fall.
So I will press my search among the concrete walls and metal chairs
and shut my ears 'gainst silent cries that verdant Spring was never there.

Villanelle villanelle

After reading my previous poem, a friend sent me a villanelle that a friend of hers had written, and asked if I had considered using that poetic form.  In truth, it had always intimidated me, so I never even tried.  But after reading the rules and a few famous examples, I decided to bravely tackle it myself.  Then, of course, I needed something to write  about.  After a couple false starts, I decided to make it an exercise by using the form itself as the theme of the poem.  So the poem isn't necessarily deep or philosophical, but ironic.  In fact, I am rather pleased with my little joke.

I don't think I can write a villanelle.
I cannot seem to fit the pattern'd rhyme
(I've given up, in case you couldn't tell)

I wander through the freeform verses well
but struggle with such metronomic time;
I don't think I can write a villanelle.

These days iambic meter doesn't sell
and I have better ways to earn my dime.
(I've given up, in case you couldn't tell)

I might try a sonnet, locked inside a cell
with bread and water, given enough time...
I don't think I can write a villanelle.

I haven't strength to strain for that brass bell
and haven't hope to hear its blessed chime
(I've given up, in case you couldn't tell)

And so I'll slouch in my prosaic hell
despairing to such mighty mountains climb.
I don't think I can write a villanelle.
(I've given up, in case you couldn't tell)


The poem that inspired me to attempt the form is here.

The ghost

Here at last is a poem that has pressed me to be written for a long time.  This phantom haunted me almost constantly for years, gradually fading as such shades are wont to do.  Now I rarely see or hear her until I open an old album or listen to certain music.

The imagery is intended to point back to Shadow Thoughts, but the primary juxtaposition is, I hope, obvious.

The ghost

Alone and wandering on a winter day
I clutch my sputtering candle 'gainst the draught,
as shadows among tarnished promises play,
and dusty frozen faces shine and laugh.
Before me now, a rusted lock and bar
hides apparition of affections old,
whose fair form dims through years like youthful scar,
yet murmurs memories piercing, pale, and cold.
So, turning from that wisp wrapped in regret,
I soon recall a warm inviting den --
upon a gilded shelf my candle set
and flee back to my cheery hearth again.
This guttered wick still flickers for that soul,
but in the blaze of thine my heart is whole.

The trees of Life and Death

I was studying Genesis chapter 2 in order to teach elementary age children about God's creation of Adam and Eve, and I became captivated by the trees at the center of the garden (verse 9).  The first is "the Tree of Life", and the second is "the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil."  Theologians love to argue about God's reason for either tree being there.  The tree of Life seems almost an afterthought, and God does not seem to draw attention to it at all until He takes away man's access to it.

I don't know why I never saw this before, but it seems to me that God was presenting Adam with a choice.  Not just the choice to eat or not eat of the forbidden tree -- rather, WHICH tree would he choose?  of the tree of Knowledge, God said, "you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.” Gen 2:17  This tree could thus be called the tree of Death, making the choice between the tree of Life and the tree of Death.

We know the results of eating of the tree of Death because that's what Adam did, but what if he had chosen differently?  What if, instead of falling to temptation, he ate of the tree of life?  At a guess, the tree of Knowledge/Death would have been taken away and humanity would have had a very different history -- one without sin, one walked with God.

Looked at this way, other scriptures stand out as connected to this original choice.  Deuteronomy 30:15-20 for example also sets before the Israelites (and, I believe, the reader) to choose "Life, blessing, and prosperity"; or "Death and destruction".  As obvious as the choice would seem, we humans tend to choose the latter.

Ever since Jesus gave His life on the cross and rose again, each man and woman has that same choice:  Life (through Christ) or Death (through man and the world).  Unfortunately, because Adam chose Death, our natural tendency is to do the same.  God must change our hearts and give us a new nature to choose Life.

Why then did God not make the choice clear?  Why did He call it the "Tree of Knowledge" etc.?  I think if He had called it the tree of Death and not attached any apparent value to it, Adam would not have had a real choice.  For example, if I plant a tree that has poisonous fruit that smell and taste terrible (or at least are unappealing), then I tell my children not to eat of it, they are unlikely to be tempted by it.  However, if the tree's fruit seem to have some benefit and look and even smell good, then when I tell my children not to eat it they must choose:  obey their father and trust his good will or disobey and find out for themselves.  Adam decided to disobey, and we have all found out for ourselves what good and evil are, and what death feels like.

And what of the serpent?  Why did God allow him into the garden?  His only goal seemed to be to lead man astray.  Again, I think he was a part of the test.  As the tempter, trying to draw man away from God, he was (is?) something of a counterbalance to God.  In the end, there is only one way to eternal joy, but God, desiring our love, gave Adam the choice of whether to give it.

Healing

September 22, 2018 was my and my wife's 17th anniversary.  The next day was a Sunday, and I went to church where the preacher taught how husbands should love their wives as Christ loved the church.  I had heard the message many times, but I tried to pay attention anyway.  Almost as an aside, he said that we should each draw a circle around ourselves and work on everybody inside the circle.  At that moment, I felt God lean over and whisper, "everything and everyone outside your circle are your circumstances."

Suddenly, everything and everyone outside my own skin had a new name.  Circumstances.  I have worked for many years to deal with my circumstances with serenity, wisdom and strength, taking life as it comes and accepting the bad and good from God's hand.  But some things and people I did not see that way, such as my kids and especially my wife.  I had always considered them to be in my "circle", a part of me, so to speak.  In a moment, I found myself on the other side of a solid line from her feelings ... especially the anger that had always terrified me.  To be fair, everyone's anger terrified me, as did the possibility of anger or judgment.  That fear was a constant in my life, and I had come to accept it as part of who I am.

After the sermon, I sought out the pastor and shook his hand, thanking him for the timely illustration, and explaining how God had revealed that truth to me at a new level.  He was surprised, but gratified.

Over the following week, I began to realize that this revelation was pivotal and had greater ramifications than I had imagined.  Sunday night, my wife and I had a fight, and instead of shutting down as I was wont to do, I lashed back at her in anger.  I said some mean things and hurt her feelings -- at the time, that was my goal.  The next day, I cooled off and decided I should apologize for my actions and try to make amends.  I bought a "fall" bouquet from a florist and brought it to her. I knew she might well reject it, but she accepted the flowers and the apology.

I realized over the next few weeks that I was feeling a range of normal emotions, including disappointment, irritation, joy, gladness, and frustration, but one thing was missing:  constant and crippling anxiety, especially regarding my wife's emotions.  This anxiety and fear carried in its wake deep frustration and bitterness, against which I had struggled for many years.  But now I felt ... calm.  She is outside the circle, along with all the negative emotions and judgments (real or perceived).  I don't have to let them in when they knock because ... I finally know that they don't live here.  In fact, my circle has become my safe space:  I can let the good in and reject entrance to the harmful.  I feel like a man who grew a new skin after living without skin for many years, fearing the pain of unprotected nerves brushing against another.

At the moment God spoke to me, it was as if the anxiety, fear, and insecurity that had been log-jammed in my heart were suddenly broken up and flowed away, as He tapped just the right log at just the right place.  I have cried out to God, "Lord thank you!  But why did you wait so long to heal me?"  He has not answered, but I know He has His reasons, and I am just thankful that I am healed.

And now a confession: if, before my healing, you had asked me to describe my wife in a word, I would have said "unstable."  However, in the weeks since my healing we have had disagreements and other incidents that would have "set her off", but they did not.  I have come to the painful realization that I had a massive blind spot in my treatment of my wife: I was a major destabilizing factor for her (I do not understand this yet).  She has noticed a significant difference in my behavior, and she feels safer around me, more able to confide in me than she was before.

I grieve for the years stacked upon years wrecked by my dysfunction.  I sorrow for the people I have thus hurt, including an ex-wife who finally couldn't stand me and a second wife who held on anyway.  I do not like that man I was, which is one thing he and I have in common.  Now I praise God that "I am no longer a slave to fear; I am a child of God." (as sung by Jonathan and Melissa Hesler), and I pray fervently that He never allow me to go back.

But though I may grieve the past, my hope for the future is incomparably brighter than before.  In fact, I have received the answer to my tearful cry, "God, where is my joy?"  I HAVE FOUND IT.

Adventure

Over the almost three years since we came to Mississippi, I have multiple times found myself asking, "what am I doing in Mississippi?"  The question rings familiar, because it is so similar to "what am I doing in West Virginia?", which I also asked myself many times.  Other similar questions have been, "what am I doing working a second job at Home Depot?" and "what am I doing working with honey bees/ trout?  My degree is in botany!" 

So there's a theme here, which seems to be that my life happens in ways I hadn't planned and did not expect.  And it has not been easy, nor has it gotten easier over time as I thought it would.  Certainly, it hasn't been boring, and I have not had time to get really comfortable anywhere in the last dozen and a half years.  Longer, really.

Recently, when I asked the aforementioned question of myself and the sky, a word drifted down to light on my mind.

 Adventure.  But adventures are supposed to be fun, not hard and painful and grueling!  Nevertheless the idea wouldn't blow away, and I wondered why a homebody like myself, with aspirations of settling into a comfortable life, would get caught up in an adventure, much like Bilbo did in The Hobbit.  As he protested, "adventures make you late for dinner!"  and I had been so very late for the proverbial dinner, so very many times.

Then I recalled a spiritual fad I got caught up in about the time my son was born, in which we men at church read the book Wild at Heart by John Eldridge, which described God's call on the author to step out into adventure, and all the fun and wonder he experienced.  Other men I knew jumped on board and started doing fun stuff.  I wanted to do the same, but most of these "adventures" involved travel and other expensive things.  I felt left behind, left out, and I asked God for my own adventure.  He didn't say anything at the time, and I took that as a "no".

Don't ever interpret God's silence.  Wait for Him.  Oh, and as the proverb goes, be careful what you ask for.

Within two years, I lost my job and couldn't find anything else in my area.  I got desperate.  Then a self-described prophet came to our church for a conference.  He said a lot of interesting things, but when he said, "someone needs to get out of the fishbowl.  Leave the circle-racetrack and head north!" my wife and I prayerfully agreed he -- God, actually -- was talking to us.

A few months later, we found ourselves in North Carolina, where I landed a job working with honey bees, despite my degree in Plant biology.  It was tough adjusting to a new place, far from friends and family, and we struggled financially and personally.  But we had prayed continuously, and God had sent us what we believed were confirmations that we were in His will.

Five years later when I took the job in West Virginia, it was with the hope that we would leave the struggles behind, but they followed us, as they have to Mississippi.  In North Carolina we thought we would settle down. Likewise in West Virginia.  Now we are not sure what will happen.

When I read a book, however closely I identify with the characters, their struggles seem remote and romantic or even heroic.  Their (usually fictional) discomfort, pain, and even anguish is not real to me.  Living out the journey myself brings home what real adventure is: yes, there are moments of fun and good stories to tell, but much hard work and striving.  As Samwise put it in The Lord of the Rings:

“It's like the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad has happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. I know now folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something....”

Adventure?  Okay, but then to what purpose?  Shouldn't an adventure have a goal?  Bilbo set out for dragon's gold; Frodo, to destroy the One Ring.  Why, then, am I journeying to this undiscovered country, through hardship and weariness? I asked Him.

To live.  "I come that they may have life, and that more abundantly." John 10:10.  That mystery called abundant life is my purpose, and I suppose, my journey.  And what could be more abundant for the one God calls beloved than to live (increasingly) in Him who holds all things in His hand?

This was a revelation that at once baffled me and brought me near to tears.  To think that He would have such a plan for me is overwhelming.  But He was not done.  He showed me that this journey -- this adventure -- is also a part of my sanctification, and that sanctification is more than just suffering.  I must trust Him through this.  Live it out.

Again, okay.  I understand a bit better the path I have trod and its purpose, but what about the future?  What do I do next? 

Keep going.  You have never been alone, and He will not abandon you.  "He will never leave you, nor forsake you."  Deuteronomy 31:6.  Unlike Gandalf, who would leave his companions at what seemed the most inopportune times, God is right there.  Always. 

And as for my anxiety about what this "adventure" holds around the next bend or beyond the looming mountain, He gave me this scripture: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own."  Matthew 6:34.

Fine.  Don't worry about tomorrow.  I can't do a whole lot about it anyway, and it's true I have enough on my plate dealing with this day.  Finally, He reminded me of a scripture He gave me many years ago and has made almost a mantra in my life:  "Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things wil be added unto you." Matthew 6:33

Looking back on my journey so far, I have rarely (or never) had everything I wanted, but He has always given me what I need, regardless of my circumstances.  This scripture is like a compass for me, to prevent me getting turned around.  I see that now, but why couldn't He tell me all this before?

The answer:  you had to travel this far to see so well.  As you go on, you will see and understand better.

So, like a hiker journeying up into higher country, I reached a grassy knoll where I could look back and see my path: the trail-head almost lost in the hazy distance, and the many forests, brambles, rock slides and mires it has led through.  I cannot see what is ahead, but I know it will continue, through difficult places but always upward until I finally reach that shining city, where the One who walked with me each step will welcome me into His rest.

R7-D3 Astromech droid

I've been a fan of the Star Wars movies since seeing the very first one in theaters as a small child, and I've taken a liking to the little robots, called "droids", like R2D2, that are found throughout the Star Wars universe.

This Christmas while in Florida, my family and I visited Disney Downtown, which is the only "free" section, meaning there is no entrance fee.  There, in a little shop I found the Disney Build-a-Droid section and excitedly proceeded to put together my own little astromech droid from the parts available.

I really wanted to make one that looked like something in the movies, so it was frustrating to not have any reference with me as to what would be "canon".  I did my best with the limited selection they had there; the result looked good to me, and the colors matched nicely, but I soon learned I had put an R4 head on an R7 body!  (Not generally acceptable to a purist like myself.)

I decided the best thing to do was not to take it apart and try to find the "correct" parts, but to give it a backstory, as to why it looks the way it does.  Like so many things that at first look "wrong", when we learn why they are the way they are, they can come to look "right" to us.  Here is my little droid and his story.

R7-D3 Was an accomplished and well-liked member of an Alliance E-wing squadron that flew many successful missions.  He was credited with giving his pilot a crucial edge in several battles by tweaking the E-wing's capabilities and pushing it to new limits.  But when his pilot was killed and the fighter crashed on a nearby planet, R7-D3 was badly damaged, and his droid brain was fried.

Scavengers picking through the wreckage discovered the droid and repaired him, replacing his destroyed head with an old R4 series head from a Jedi's modified astromech.  This gave R7 a new lease on life, but a tragic one: his body was designed to interface with E-wing star fighters, limiting its usefulness in other capacities; however, his "new" brain was not capable of effectively interfacing with star fighters, or, for that matter, with much of the sophisticated hardware of the R7 body.  After being resold several times and proving unable to perform many standard astromech duties, R7-D3 eventually found his way to a seedy rim-world spaceport facility where he spent the rest of his days repairing land speeders and doing janitorial work.