“It was when I was happiest that I longed most…The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing…to find the place where all the beauty came from.” ~C.S. Lewis
It’s time for Summer Camp again, and once again I find myself full of longing. It’s not always around Camp time, but it does seem to get stronger at this time of year. The quote from Lewis, above, sums it up better than I could ever say it. Jack has a way of doing that.
Perhaps some of you can relate, and perhaps not. Perhaps I’m truly crazy, but so many times throughout my life I have had such a strong sense of longing - a longing to see “home” - not to leave this life that is so wonderful, but to get back to where it is that I came from. I know I’ve said these things before, probably too often, but it is what it is and I can’t seem to shake it. God seems so close and yet sometimes so far away. Heaven is there and yet I can’t quite seem to grasp it. The way a tree sways, or a scent on the breeze in mid-summer, or even the color of the azure sky; all of these can sometimes have an ethereal feeling about them. There are times when many of these things remind me of something, and it’s not a nostalgic feeling but much more of a longing. The imprint of Eden remains despite the corruption that exists, and I can see it through what would seem to be a very thin veil.
I think others feel this way as well. I find myself surrounded by artists and musicians, poets and writers, all of whom feel lost, disillusioned, and like they’re not fulfilling their own purpose. We all believe and are often able to see, even if in nothing more than a glimpse, the influence of God all around us. And yet, we continue to drudge along at jobs that stifle, and stay silent at churches that are asleep.
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how truly tortuous is must’ve been
to sit alone all day and spin
a web of lies, deceipt and fuss
for peasants and the ignorant
finding ways to glorify
all that God doth demnify
and paint a picture bleak and grim
a flagon full of futures dim
where’s the light? where’s the hope?
naught else but scaffold, noose & rope
but ending with bright story told
of hero, young, brave & bold
when asked why his life he’d risked
his short reply in innocence
well, because he’s my friend,
and I know, that’s what friendship is.
Thank God for little reminders - signposts on the way - that there is still good left in the world.
It is damp and dreary here in West Indy, but the flowers on my porch and in my yard are in full bloom, and that makes all the difference. I’m sure some hate the thought of “yard work” or anything to do with planting and keeping something growing alive, but for me it’s bliss to have a few hours alone with nothing more than dirt, plants, and silence. I haven’t always been this way, but the older I’ve gotten, and the more chaotic things are with the rest of life, the more I’ve come to cherish the brief, shining moments in my little garden. In many ways the simple task of planting something and watching it grow, while at the same time adding beauty and color to an otherwise drab exterior - well, it reminds me of something else; something bigger and older and quite simply, better than most of what I see and hear around me.
The flowers and plants remind me that some things in this life are still beautiful and worth fighting for - my wife and marriage, my Godchildren, my family and friends, and the Good and Truth that remains here against all odds. I find that God places little reminders everywhere, and usually they come right when I need them. And hence, the reason for this post. I mentioned in the last update that I would be telling some of the stories of living with 3 children not my own and the dramatic change that this has brought upon my wife and I. This is one of many, and like my flowers, it’s one way in which God has broken through the haze and blur of postmodern life and stirred this otherwise cold and sleepy heart.
The last couple weeks have been particularly trying for us as parents. Due to some unfortunate…
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