from my one inch frame

November 28, 2016

Kansas City, Missouri

Anne Lamott told me to consider the one-inch frame before my eyes and write it, write it until it's all there and only then, look beyond.  Ray Bradbury basically said that if we don't write, we'll be driven mad.  I should listen to them, they are brilliant.

Every time that writing falls to the fringes, I

know the only excuse is no good. I quit making excuses and have instead traded for the idea of ebb and flow.  Except, that is of course, an excuse. So, whatever. I showed up today, because when I found myself dropping off 45 books and completely alone at the library, I wandered the halls and found myself before a display on writing.  The two books practically jumped into my hands and then Anne and Ray did what they do best.  They asked me to write what my eyes see and do it for the sake of my life.

Last night, we gathered in the dark with steaming bowls of soup and sandwiches grilled to perfection.  We lit the candle of hope and place a few floating tea lights around to illuminate the paths from spoon to mouths.  We spoke of this hope we have, the hope that rings through creation, that a Savior would come.

For all the years that we've roamed the earth in our madness, we have been searching.  Every tribe  have felt the empty spaces and many have filled them in vain. We've roared and roamed through time and space.  And then the words came, a child will be born unto us, and he shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  So, we watch and we wait and we hope.  Hope that we feel him today. Hope that he comes as promised. Hope that he comforts the ones who ache. When the world reeks with pain and suffering, when we hurl our madness at each other like balls of fire.  We hope.

The candle light flickered on their little faces and Hudson whispers, a messiah. 

Yes, my child, a messiah.  Imagine how many children have whispered in the candlelight, a messiah. How many fathers and mothers and grandmothers

whispering, a messiah.

Light dances in our eyes, young and old, weary travelers and souls at rest.

We are all under the power of light.

For even the smallest sliver slices through the deepest dark.

And oh, how we feel the darkness.

but, oh the light, 

I watched the six little eyes around the table, slurping soup and dipping sandwiches.

I caught the ones next to me, eyes so patient and hopeful and kind.

I felt the light of that flame reach my soul

and a thread stitched us into the ancient tapestry of eyes that have sat before candlelight and whispered, messiah.

one candle, burning bright

chasing away the darkness from light.

one candle, glowing light,

the blessing of God, giving new sight.

(from an Advent liturgy)