Journal

We are all like snails here

Wandering--with purpose

loping about--dragging out lives along

working and plodding to PAY

a cancelled debt. 

We want "much"--with all the trimmings

and we want--until Dove says that

"excess hardens on us like a shell"

"More" is our anthem--our sworn duty--allegiance pledged

The fit survive such things, I'm told

and still--I have to wonder

Can a snail survive without its shell?

whithout a house of wood to hold its big-screen soul?

What happens to that tiny thing

When "much" is taken

Seperated--like bone from marrow

--armor broken--does it shiver there?

Left naked--on the alter bare--like an sacrifice

--or does it dance

to feel the wind upon its face?

--the Son to blind it's eye from all that is so necessary

Once taken from its slimy home

Exposed--its sure to dry

In unprotected presence of the Son

to shrivel up and die

--or will it fly?

Can a snail survive without its shell--can I?

And still I go on wondering

about those things with feathers

that perch and sing and have no nest

Its crazy--isn't it?

Like a fox--without a hole to rest.

Grace gave us an unexpected gift today in the form of a power outage. 

We had roast beef and mashed potatoes and some other wonderful things to eat (as if that wasn’t gift enough). On a whim, we had decided to use Miss Katherine’s china and everyone’s plate was full when the lights went out. 

We finished our feast by candlelight, expecting at any minute that the lights would come back on--alas, it was not to be. 

And therein lies the grace…

Son had been itching to start a fire since we moved in and the howling wind outside (which knocked out the power) was strong and cold.  We each took an armload of the wood we had stacked weeks ago up to the living room fireplace and Don and Son commenced the manhood ritual. 

Don had made hot chocolate (real—“knock ya’ nekkid hot chocolate”—not the nestle crap) yesterday—so Katherine and I warmed it up and put it in cups with marshmallows. 

Son was so happy—he said at one point “I think I might just cry, this is so cool!”  When the fire was lit and the cups distributed we sat together and talked a while.  We talked about Christmas and how tall the tree should be, and we played 10 fingers and laughed at the exaggerations.  We listened to Son read from the “The Kids Bathroom Book of Trivia”, and then I read from CS Lewis’ “Chronicles of Narnia”.  Son kept saying “Can we do this tomorrow night too?”  I know it blessed D and K to see Son (me too) so enthralled.  Don said, “You make everything a new thing, it is just a pleasure to see you so happy about this.”

It was a pleasure.

We were living in the moment and celebrating simple joy. 

So it was time to go to bed and Don helped us start a fire in this fireplace (down stairs in our family room) too.  It is a roaring beauty and will be warm for hours.  I’ve stripped down to a tank and shorts now and I’m just basking in the sweet serendipity of it all. 

How can I possibly be this blessed?  

Blessed=Undeserved favor…

…Yep, you’ve got that right. 

What a God. 

What a lucky little soul. 

What a lovely fire to fall asleep by. 

What a gift Grace offers—even in dark places.