Thursday, September 29, 2011

I Like The Stillness

Sitting on my deck experiencing brother Sun greeting the Columbia River outshines sensationalism.  Thanking and saying Adieu to sister Moon leaves me feeling secure.  Pantheism?  No.

It is Heavenly Father saying "Good morning, my friend."  His masculine hand on my shoulder for the coming day's activities.  His touch is more steady than proclamation.  It was Heavenly Father's feminine hand that watched over me in slumber.  The receiving was deeper in hymn than mere emotional sentimentality.

I hear the age 67 coming up the path, the foot steps seem still in their movement.  Be still and listen my mind.  Be still and embrace His overwhelming absence of presence.  That is when he is most near.  I like the embrace of stillness.

The Creator is to be experienced in joy, in a dance of relationship.  The Creator is to be worshipped in experiential relationship.

Party? Potato Chips

I am told by some we should not talk politics.  I also should not eat potato chips.  I like potato chips.  We should discuss and try to understand waves of notion.  When listening to the elephant and donkey speak, the choice seems to be somewhere between Kaopectate and Muralax.  The Independents are somewhere, the Libertarians live in a box.  The Tea Party is the party of what's happening now.  The disenfranchised might be on to something.

We should try to govern.  We should serve as we are able.  It seems thought is so far right at this time that reasoned center sounds left. I think I am about on bubble left of center.  Reason has been lost in a dust storm of sensationalism, fear.  The circumference of my on bubble left seems to be related to which protractor is used and by what individual's mindset the unit is calibrated.

I would like to hear you speak your corner.  Whatever we choose to do, let there be more stillness in reflection than exhortation and proclamation.  We need to offer a bit of time to pass after a person speaks so what has been said can be understood before we speak.  May our speaking have clarity wrapped in brevity.  I am weary of the person who always has more answers than questions.

Our God selves need to be given back to rightful ownership.  Speak your corner and leave it there.  Hold your peace.  Balance, balance, balance.  We need to move to action with depth of understanding.

Where is Narnia?  Please pass the potato chips.


Marci's Epistle Poem - Marie Temperance and Caroleen's Star Remembrance

Sometimes we find ourselves living a cameo appearance in the play Our Town.  Last week was one of those times.  Maybe if we see from Heavenly Father's view the moment of reflection will be positive.  I like to think in themes along the lines of graduation, Promotion to Glory.  Some students at the university of God's transformation are enrolled in an invited reading experience which has more depth that reading light fiction.  These dear folks are the graduate disciples of Light.

Is it possible the emotions of today mirror the shadows of a time gone, a glimpse of yesterdays?  As a young freckle faced boy I saw Mom walk a seven plus year sidewalk called M.S.  Her grace and strength of acceptance are still inside me.  The freckles have become gray whiskers.  The pretty lady I think of as my covenant wife Caroleen won the painful dance contest with breast cancer.  Dear Caroleen smiled all the days of those seven plus years.  She was promoted to Glory a while back.  her loving daughters sang hymns at their mom's bedside as they said goodbye.

I did not know Marci long.  Maybe yesterday and today met at the intersection, emotions.  Two or three times was opportunity mine to see Marci's strength and grace in her eyes, for my spirit to fellowship with hers.  Indeed, plenty of time to overflow my grateful cup.

We wonder and whisper why.  We shout WHY!  Loving stillness is the reply.  Sadly, Caroleen left to a different place several years ago.  This time she was truly gone.  She became and is a star of remembrance.  Mom has been gone for many years.  I have trouble seeing her in my mind's eyes. She is in my heart's eye.  I see her star.

This time experience is Moment Present.  Maybe past and present are what moves me to write.  The feelings seem very close to my rib which protects my heart.  Tom comes to an Alter of Mourning during an evening worship service only a short few days after having waved goodbye to Marci.  I begin to cry, hopefully unnoticed.  The thought comes to direct my hands to Tom's station.  Maybe I can beam a prayer of partnering alongside this good man.  Again, maybe no one will see my tears of selfishness.  This is Tom's time I thought, not mine I thought.

Later that evening I realized I had been wrong.  It was also my time, our time.  "Mourn with those who mourn...."  Marci's Epistle Poem touches us.  Marie Temperance and Caroleen's Star light our way.

Lady Julian of Norwich says God comforts all by speaking these words over us.

All shall be well
But all shall be well
And all manner of things shall be well
   Lady Julian of Norwich


Lee's Days

Think Thoughts
Emotions Bubble
both over Border
May God's Levee channel

Discernment in Faith Centric Expectancy

Reflection  (The Process)
The walk from the front porch of human reason down the long, sometimes dark, hallway to the living room of the light within may require we have a pen flashlight in our hip pocket.  The hallway is often straight narrow.

Thoughts  (The Destination)
Christian Discernment is attentiveness which traverses to actionable truth.  The source of which is divine.

The Derivatine  (Acknowledgement)
Let it be so proclaimed I am on the stilts of others as I waverly make my way to the little stone bridge and try to swim under the summer run off which crests this Multnomah Falls of concepts and splashing words.

Garbage Grove

My birth family; Mom, Dad, Jerry, Richard, and I came to Garden Grove in late 1949 or early 1950.  The sign read, "Smog free Garden Grove."  There was a new concept in community living at the time.  The idea was called track homes. Our place was a little 3 bedroom 1 bath stucco house at 12551 Lucille Avenue.  (Garage not included.)  It was home for the Fosters.

During high school years, (early 60's rancho), social positional status for me and my buddies was parking my '57 Ford in the back row of the Highway 39 drive-in.  The plan was to meet some cute girls.  We did have a back up plan.  The back up plan was some five-finger cigars and a 6-pack of beer.  I am sure the movie showing sucked so watching it was optional. You may have guessed, none of us went to Harvard in later years.

Guy - AAA - Bung-ga!  Where are my AAA - Rachies.  Hail T.J.

I went on to what was then George Fox College.  It is now George Fox University.  I graduated and went on to teach high school English.

Dear Abba: When

It seems much is learned
When we actively listen
When we listen more than we talk
When we have more questions than answers
When we pray with, more than for
When we come alongside instead of at.

I shall now hush.

Dear Child,
Nice to hear from you.