CONTACT

CONTACT

In the Darkness, we sludge through the mire, seldom even looking up, resolved to the despair. "This is just the way it is", we console ourselves.  It does not get any better, it seems.

But, once in a generation, an upward glance catches a glimpse of a heavenly flicker.  Some of these souls, not all, stand up and stare into the sky, looking for the source of the light that briefly aroused wonder.  Others just ignore the flash of light, and trudge away.

One soul wiped the muck from his face with his filthy hand. He looks around, in confused wonder, and tried to make out what he perceived as figures in white, walking along trying to assist the confused crowd in the chaos.  But, most all of the crowd were oblivious to them. A few swatted at them as if they were flies.

One of the bright ones took my face in his hand, and pointed my eyes toward the heavens.  A great light, beyond the flickering stars, began to fill my view.

" O, Light, send the rain and wash away the mud from our eyes!"

DRUID IN THE WOOD

DRUID IN THE WOOD

The old druid, wizened and mysterious, walked into the forest and gazed in awe at the massive tree.

“the university profs think they know you, because they can name your parts and even recite your genus and phylum…”

“the sawyers think they know you, because they can calculate board feet, and take you with such ease…”

“the mills think they know you, because they can make such profit with your parts that they scavenge…”

“and, the carpenters think they know you, because they can see furniture and even quaint homes from your lumber.”

“but, I alone really know you, I come to worship your ancient place in this sphere…”

Then the old druid quaked in his shoes, as he heard the voice of the one he adored.

“you think that you know me, but let me tell you the truth.

Open your heart, and open your eyes.

Lift up your hands as my limbs do I!

One from eternity, who spoke me to be,

Once, long ago, hung on one of us, a mere tree.

For, such as you, blind as you are,

Have forgotten He who named every star.

They sing His praises, with voices unheard.

Now, what about you? Made-from-the-dirt!”

 

LITTERBUGS

I live in my own little cosmos.  I cannot control what you throw into the common living area.  I think it is nasty, trashy, and irresponsible; but, I cannot keep the whole world clean.

I will concentrate own my own little piece of real estate.  I use a garbage can, into which I dump my garbage bag in my car.  Novel idea?!  We even have multiple garbage cans in our house, into which we place nastiness and nonsense.  These are emptied into the wheeled garbage can outside that goes to the curb weekly.  Where this stuff goes is a little beyond me?! 

While taking the can to the curb, weekly, I often have to pick up your garbage.  We must be just the right distance from McD’s and other drive-thru’s where you get your groceries.  You finish your feast and then toss out the rest, right onto my road frontage.  If I do not pick it up, then I look as nasty as you?!  And, the State will shred it when they bushhog the ROW, making a worse mess!

To be fair, I have tossed out a few banana peels and apple cores.   I figure I am helping God feed the wildlife!  I may have even tossed out a used tissue, rationalizing that it is “bio-degradable” or some such sort of thing.  Thank God that I am not like these other trashy folks, though!  Beer cans and bottles.  Fast-food boxes and bags.  Used diapers and …

Society has passed laws against you.  I suppose Libertarians and Progressives are OK with these trash laws, even though they will fight any other restriction of your trashiness.  You have the “right” to live any-way and any-how you choose; that is the American way?!  So, who am I really to say that your carelessness and disregard for others is not permissible?  It is no different than your right to sexual deviancy and baby-killing?  Really?  Maybe, whatever can be, should be?  No restrictions is what freedom is all about?!

I thought that Europe was way ahead of traditional, puritanical USA, but, on vacation, I saw a warning on a sidewalk over there about, of all things, can you believe it, spitting your gum on the sidewalk?!  There was a hefty fine?  Really?  You can “spit” and “sputter” about most anything you want to, in the good ol’ USA.  Marijuana is even legal now!  So, kill those babies!  Marry those queers.  “Don’t Tread On Me” is our motto! 

Some people do have a problem with your dog leaving behind souvenirs, though.  It is so difficult to be consistent.  Maybe we should lighten up on the litterbugs?

CANNOT GET MY HEAD AROUND IT

CANNOT GET MY HEAD AROUND IT

I sit here, in my darkly lit sunroom, since it is an overcast, Saturday morning.  The digging about the history quotation heard at work was fruitless.  So, I muse over knowledge, and its limits.

I once ambitiously thought to master history, theology, philosophy.  Earlier I had climbed to the peak of mathematics, science, and other high school subjects.  Now, as an old man, I begin to wonder what is really rock solid.

The revisions and twists of history confuse me.  The divisions and contradictions of theology leave me wondering.  And, the philosophers begin to sound as if they just enjoy listening to themselves.

Jesus is the Rock.  I may never get my head around even Him; but, may He dwell in my heart.  He is the only one that makes sense.  Even though I do not completely understand, I am convinced that He is Truth, even, the Truth.  He is the Way.  He is the Life.

Parable of the Garden

Parable of the Garden

A gardener looked over his weed-filled garden space, and just shook his head.  He wanted to look good to the garden club, and knew he had to do something to save face.  But, it was a big garden spot and was not worth the effort to really try to plant the whole thing.

So, the gardener got out his lawn mower and mowed down the weeds.  Then he got out his tiller and worked over the soil, but, just in one small corner.  Then he fertilized the section he had tilled, but just ignored the rest.  The rest of the old garden area was just ignored, except when he scowled how bad it looked.  He wondered why the rest of the garden could not look as good as this one corner?!

The next day, the gardener bought some seed, and sowed it very carefully in the one small corner.  It would be a waste of seed to broadcast, like a sower, the seed to the rest of garden, obviously.  He set up his sprinkler, not caring if some of the water was wasted on the area outside his selected corner. 

After a while, the corner was in full bloom.  Before long, the gardener was picking peas and cutting okra.  There were even some tomatoes!  But, the rest of the garden spot, the area outside the corner, was a jumbled mass of weeds and thorns.  He was just proud that ten percent of the old garden looked so good.  Surely the garden club would smile on his success.

Really?!