Dear Gavin, Rest in Peace

Dear Gavin,

Today I discovered third-hand that you were dead.

My mother had no more information that that; just that you were dead. I remembered you were in the Navy and you were so, so proud. I remembered last time I saw you, I congratulated you, and then I avoided you.

We were never good friends, and I know people were often impatient with you, myself included. You were mocked, you were disliked, and you were downright hated.

My only hope is that you knew, at some point, that you were also loved, liked, and appreciated. I hope that you knew God and that God knew you. I hope you’re with Him, rejoicing in what you always were: a child of God.

I wish people had treated you better, myself included, and shown you what we ought to be showing every person we encounter. I hope you knew that some of us really were proud of you for getting into the Navy, and proud of you for staying there. I hope you knew, even if only very, very briefly.

I wish I had the chance to say I’m sorry: I’m sorry I didn’t treat you better, I’m sorry I got impatient with you often, I’m sorry you felt like you had to lie to fit in, I’m sorry you even wanted to fit in. I’m sorry your family struggled, I’m sorry God was hard for you to find at our church, I’m sorry we weren’t prouder of you, I’m sorry we didn’t show you that we loved you. I'm sorry I didn't take the time to know you better as a friend and equal. I’m sorry.

And I hope, finally, that you’re resting in that peace that some of us never really quite understood.

Wings of Wax

We will not wait for the
experts to
explain to us what it means
to be excellent.
We will not wait for our
parents and professors to
give us permission
to spread our wings.
We are the young;
like every good thing,
we leave,
we thrive;
we love,
we lose,
and with freedom weighing us down,
we drown in our own
miry individuality,
calling on
someone
to grasp our hand
and guide our way:
someone,
anyone,
but them.

Charis Medendorp (2011)

I wrote this while sending an email to myself (which I do a lot). I found it today when I wondered what this one unread email could be. Strange, how you lose things.

Eb

The seven seas stared back at me

from within their ivory frame,

and the ocean’s roar

whispered its chords

from deep within its chest.

As my fingertips stroked

the delicate blades

that can slice the heart

of any man,

I recognized the key

to my own heart;

without a thought,

I opened the lock,

swallowed whole by

the seven seas,

the rolling waves

of ivory keys.

Charis Medendorp (2011)

Growing Pains

Dear God,

This must be what it feels like to grow up, huh. You spend your weeks working nine to five days, get home, eat, sleep, and do it all again. On weekends, you spend one day in total relaxation—if you can call making lists of everything you need to do in the next week “total relaxation.” The other day, you go to church, get taught some moral lesson that you’d forgotten (again), and spend the rest of the day forgetting about it.

Then you start over.

It’s right about now that you realize that life’s probably never going to be as cracked up as the movies make it seem, unless it’s the ones that you call “bad” because it’s just too close to reality for comfort—that there’s probably not going to be a fairy-tale love story waiting in the wings of your future—that maybe there’s a lot of your dreams that will never be fulfilled, or worse, that your dreams weren’t really what you wanted.

And it’s right about now that you start to feel utterly lost. It’s terrifying, growing up. It’s all you ever wanted when you were younger, but now that it’s approaching, you’re turning tail and trying to run in the other direction. Some actually manage to flee—they’re the ones you look at and wonder, “when are they ever going to grow up?” They won’t. That’s the point. Others pretend to have a handle on the situation, when really, they’re hiding the same childlike fear you are

There aren’t a lot of choices in this situation. Either you run, or you face it—either way, you pray to God that He has a plan, because you sure don’t.

It’s so tremendously overwhelming, growing up. All of the sudden you’re worrying about everything. Everything. And sometimes you go to your mom’s house and you’re sitting in your bedroom thinking about the idea of growing up, and the thought is so big and so frightening that there’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry and you haven’t the slightest reason for it.

Well, it’s because you’re afraid.

Because I am afraid.

Love.

Awing

I followed a raindrop

From a thousand feet high

hurtling toward the

solid gray pavement

with a velocity

and speed

that frightened me.

Closer,

closer,

the pavement

drew closer;

I could see the small shapes

in small rocks,

pebbles,

barely even

rocks.

I could see

the glittering mica,

glistening with the shattering raindrop wetness.

My raindrop shattered, too,

and with its demise,

I opened my wings

like parachutes,

fwooosh,

and felt even more shattering raindrops of my feathers, dancing lightly

on the fibres of my wings,

and I reached for the ground,

alighting softly upon the pavement,

my hair drenched,

my wings spread,

and my heart racing.

I opened my eyes

to the darkness,

listening to the rainfall,

and my heart

longed

for wings.

Traveling the World

Idea #1:
-Print off an uncolored world map like the previous. Make sure you have big paper.
-Start coloring in the places you've been. Feel free to color code it somehow, like by year, or you can just follow the color code of whatever world maps have so none of the colors touch. It's up to you.
-Every time you visit another country, color it in.
-My goal is to have at least one country per continent...excluding Antarctica. I'm not big on frozen wastelands.

As soon as I find the right piece of paper, I'm going to begin my traveling record.
Enjoy!

Let Evening Come [Adapted from Jane Kenyon]

Let Evening Come
[Adapted from Jane Kenyon]


[Warzone]

Let the light of late afternoon
shine off barrels of guns, moving
up the trenches as the sun moves down.

Let the radio take up crooning
as a soldier takes up his MRE
and his letters. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the mine abandoned
in tough weeds. Let the clouds appear
and the moon hide her silver horn.

Let the lizard go back to its dusty hole.
Let the wind pick up. Let the hut
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the body in the ditch, to the shovel
in the grave, to air still in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.


















[Church]

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through stained glass windows, moving
up the pews as the sun moves down.

Let the sparrows give up chirping
as a priest takes up his Bible
and his prayers. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the grave abandoned
in the long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the mouse go back to its dusty hole.
Let the light die down. Let the confessional
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the rosary in the yard, to the candle
on the altar, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.




















[Forest]

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through weave in the tent, moving
up the pines as the sun moves down.

Let the bullfrog take up croaking
as a camper takes up his shovel
and his tin. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the bottle abandoned
in tangled brush. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the bear go back to its earthy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the hollow
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the log over the river, to the match
in the dirt, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

We Will Not Wait

The future's hurtling toward us like a freight train,

And here we are just waiting for it to hit.

We're not running scared,

We're not even watching;

We're just waiting.

Why?

Our future is not set in stone,

Our future is not made of steel.

Our future is gold--it's manipulable,

Malleable,

Changeable.

Our future is what we want it to be.

So why are we waiting?

We are the Young;

Already our future has changed,

Shifted from one plan to another.

And when the change turned to a downpour of changes,

We gave up that freight train,

and with our Midas Touch

Turned our future into gold.

Shapeable.

Malleable.

Changeable.

This is our future.

We will not wait.

Crocodile Tears

Apparently I had written this weeks ago during my History of the English Language course and left it in my book with something entirely different written on the other side.

The sway of palm trees,
         palm leaves
  in the cool, cool night
The sphinx begs a riddle,
        unanswerable,
    but the answer is in the wind,
           as unharnessable as
                                a cloud.
And down by the river,
    the crocodile weeps 
       with scaly tears,
            and salty fears
   which come with the rain
    and irrigate the earth.

And 'nothing' is the answer
    to the sphinx's riddle
   (but) the wind makes
          the palm trees sway,
   and the crocodile tears
          in the quiet midnight
            are more heart-wrenching
                than dry, human eyes.

Pray Without Ceasing

Yesterday, in one of my devotional books, I read a piece which declared prayerlessness to be a sin. Initially, I wasn't all that surprised. Total lack of communication with God? I suppose at some level it could be labeled a sin. What took me by surprise was the fact that the author went on to declare that anything less than ceaseless prayer is a sin.

'A sin?' I thought. 'Surely not a sin.'

It's an interesting perspective, though. It gave me pause. Is anything less than ceaseless prayer really a sin? By not being in absolutely constant communion with God, am I actually leading a lifestyle of sin?

I doubted at first, of course, because it's so drastic. How could it be sinful to have a few moments when God isn't at the forefront of my mind? That question really did give me pause. I began to wonder if, perhaps, I was writing off the author's dramatic declaration simply because it wasn't the feel-good devotional I wanted. This challenged me.

There has only been one time in my life in which I was even close to ceaseless prayer. My first two years of high-school, I probably thought of myself the least, because I wasn't as pretty as I'd have liked to be, and I wasn't popular or particularly amazing at sports, or academics, or anything, really. I spent that year with a lot of focus on my relationship with God and on my own behavior as a Christian going to a Christian school where most of the students played a lot of the church games they always do as adolescents in the church. I remember sitting in a chapel session that was focused on that idea of praying without ceasing.

Whoa. It wasn't a novel idea, really, but the fact was that I had never heard it put in such plain terms before. Ceaseless prayer? It's just talking to God about anything and everything that happens during the day. You see a random person. You pray for them. Just a quick prayer, nothing special or wordy or eloquent. Something like, "God, whatever that person struggles with, be in the midst of their life today." Or if you see something particularly beautiful, thank God for it.

I started to try it, that very same day.

It took practice, of course. I was constantly having to remind myself that I should be praying. I prayed for the people around me, and I prayed for people I thought of, and I thanked God for whatever I saw that I thought was good or pleasing, and I went about my day. It was hard, though, if I was upset or angry.

After a while, it got easier. Even when upset, I prayed for whomever I was upset with, or I prayed kind of like David--you know, the "rescue me, God" and "You are my stronghold, I take shelter under your wings."

I think, to be honest, while nothing much really happened during those years, I remember them as some of the times I was most joyful.

It's been a long time since then. I've tried a few times to get back in the habit, but that hasn't really been cutting it. If I want to try ceaseless prayer, I'm going to have to be very, very intentional about it.

But back to the beginning. Is a life without ceaseless prayer really sinful? It's a strange thing to simply call the absence of lack of continual communication with God a sin, but I'm starting to see his point. Without constant communication with God, it's that much more difficult to know God's will. It makes sense to me that if we aren't in constant contact with God in some shape or form, then, essentially, we are sinful. I know in my experience that knowing the right thing to do isn't easy. During those few years in which I tried to engage in ceaseless prayer, though, I remember it just wasn't difficult. The right thing always seemed crystal clear. I was spending my arguments praying for the other person, rather than trying to figure out how to win the argument. I was much more easily able to put down my pride and admit being wrong than ever before (which, if you know me, is probably one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn).

Basically, when I'm not talking to God, I sin a lot. When I am talking to God, I sin less.

Granted, I'll always mess up (I know I'm not perfect in any stretch of the imagination), but that doesn't change the viewpoint. It's almost like being physically lighter, more buoyant--as if gravity has a little bit less of a hold on you as it does everyone else. Probably because it does.