This appears to be the year when things fall apart. If true, I’m off to a very good start. My muscles can no longer stand the strain of distance biking with its inherent pain. The first signs of arthritis annoy my joints and I know where these signs unhappily point. If this is the year when things fall apart, I’m off to a petty good start.
I’m not quite as nimble as I used to be, while driving at night I can hardly see, my memory left town a long time ago, my wife says: speed up, you’re driving to slow. What’s wrong with 40 in a 50 mile zone? And I’ve earned the right to talk on my phone. If this the year when things fall apart… I will be remembered as “state of the art..”
Birthdays come and birthdays go, there’s no way to stop them or make them go slow. Now 80, I’ve given up delicious streusel for a nightly glass of Metamucil, which caused my best friend to say with a sigh: “That Bob is really a regular guy!” Yes, if this is the year when things all apart I’m definitely off to a very good start.
The Virtue Vendor came to town today, his wagon filled with assorted goods. It didn’t take long for a line to form, I hesitated, but I knew I should restock my supply of Patience and Peace, and while I’m at it, I’ll ask if I could have a small container of Joy.
The Vendor rolls in about once a month with everything a man could need, boxes of Kindness, sacks full of Hope, Generosity, too, to fight off our greed. One time he got sick and missed a month. You should have heard us beg and plead. You just can’t live without Virtues!
I rue the day the Vendor dies. Some dependable person will take his place. But the Vendor knows what this village needs. We can’t get along without a case of Grace. We all wonder who the replacement will be, it will take a strong person to keep up the pace. What’s that? Who, me?
Here’s a survivor. Was it a lightening strike? No matter, the scar is there and will be there as long as the tree is standing.
At first glance, the scar is a serious distraction from the overall charm and beauty of the tree. “Too bad,” someone said, “it could have been such a lovely tree.”
But it is, scar and all. The neighboring trees are nice but they have no story to tell. This one, though, remembers all the details: the jolt of the strike, the searing pain, the long process of healing.
Scars are sometimes invisible, but whether seen or unseen, they present two options: relive all the painful moments over and over again, or regard the scar as the completion of healing.
One looks back in sorrow, the other looks forward with courage. The decision point between the two is the critical moment. “Choose life that you might live…”* Always choose Life.
“So Pilate sentenced Jesus to die…as they led him away, a man named Simon, who was from Cyrene, happened to be coming in from the countryside. The soldiers seized him and put the cross on his shoulders and made him carry it…” (Luke 23) He didn’t know what was to happen that day. And neither do we. Simon was forced to carry the burden by power and threat. We are willing to carry our neighbor’s burden because of compassion, the sacrifice of self for the welfare of the other. Today may be my day…your day. May I be aware of others around me and available to the opportunity to share someone’s heavy load. May my eyes be open and my heart be softened by the Spirit. May I live what I say I believe.
I heard a phrase the other day that will stick with me for a long time. Only two words, I don’t remember the topic of conversation but I remember being caught off guard by what sounded to me like a genuine contradiction. The two words simply don’t go together.
Intense simplicity.
And hearing those words, I thought to myself: what a perfect description of the breathtaking beauty of our little corner of creation, here in the Sonoran Desert. The simple beauty is so intense at times that it is overwhelming, one step short of sacred. I complain about the summer heat, the scarcity of water in the future, the sameness of colors and landscape. But give me one good sunset or one beautiful sunrise and my spirit sings about the intense simplicity of this amazing place.
Perhaps The Way of Jesus could be called intense simplicity. I think I hear that in his voice and from his perspective on human life. The complexities we create finally cave in under the weight of excesses. Why don’t we decide, as the people of Jesus, to live intense simplicity. Creation needs it, and so do we.
Meet my new friend. I don’t know his name…he wouldn’t tell me. But he’s new to the neighborhood and he stopped by the other day to say “Hello”. Nice neighborly thing to do.
I was walking through the Living Room when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him peering through the rectangular window above the front door. I think he must be new to this world because he wasn’t frightened and he sat there for a long time listening to me tell him about the neighborhood. I think I might have been the first human he had ever seen because he stared at me for five minutes. Wouldn’t it be amazing to hear what his little bird brain was registering at that moment? I was just explaining some of the HOA rules to him when he suddenly stood up taller at the sound of rapid chirping behind him. He turned and off he fluttered, summoned by a worried Mom who had just counted heads and discovered she was missing one.
His visit reminded me about the importance, maybe necessity, of hospitality, an important ingredient in the recipe of Christian faith. The one whose Way we follow made it very clear. Welcome the stranger, give without asking for anything in return, help people (even if you don’t know them), share your bread with anyone who is hungry. Over and over, He made the point that servant relationships are the best kind, and that if we all practiced that kind of relationship, the world would be a different place.
So, as the late Fred Rogers used to sing: “It’s a lovely day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood…won’t you be my neighbor?”
What is real? And how do I know? Is life just one big magic show? Find the pea under the walnut shell. Watch closely, my friend, for your eyes will tell exactly which one covers the prize. Trust your instincts, they never lie.
When I picked up this photograph from the developer, the woman behind the counter looked at it for a moment and then commented: “That sky is really beautiful.” She was pointing toward the blue water. I said, “Well, that’s the water you’re looking at.” And she came back: “No it isn’t. That’s sky.” I started to say: “Lady, I was there,” but I thought better of it.
Is it a blatant understatement to say that life is confusing, even complicated? Life turns on a dime. Just when you think you’ve got it figured out, off it goes in a different direction. And especially in these days of recovery from political chaos and medical nightmares, it’s tough to know what to do.
I heard something this morning that helps me in the midst of confusion. May I share it with you? “Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer. You shall cry for help and he will answer: Here I am. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places…you will be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up foundations of many generations. You shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.” (Isaiah 58:9-12)
The repairer of the breach. The reconciler of divisions. The restorer of stability.
Yours first…and then for everyone else around you. May it be so.
Shining Spirit 
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