The complete peace that settles in the bottom of my soul, and then fills it entirely, has accompanied the weather, as it always does. One rarely comes to call without the other.
I look out my window. It's a dark afternoon, the rain is pouring heavily, and so I get up from the floor where my sketchbooks and pencils are spread out to make tea. The lounge is empty, and so once the water is heating, I walk over to the great bay window to look over the quad. The sky is flat grey, sending down cold, fast, heavy drops and darkening the sidewalks, the roofs - the grass is darker green, the forest is thicker.
Suddenly something small flies past the window; it comes back, circles around, and a honey bee lands on the brick ledge just outside. It crawls around the space of dry shelter, jerking and flicking its legs as it moves away from the rain, and its wings droop.
Breathing in peppermint steam, I hold the warm cup of tea between my fingers and think about being in the world.
The music I listen to doesn't destroy my earnest effort to think on good and excellent things, though most of my lyrics are secular. Hearing friends swear and joke crudely doesn't tempt me to do the same, and doesn't diminish my affection for them. Watching films with messages that are contrary to the truth I know isn't damaging to my faith. Reading books and hearing lectures with views and opinions that conflict with mine don't anger, but rather intrigue, and encourage me to know and question why I believe what I do.
None of these things - music, films, lectures, people who don't believe - are necessarily stumbling blocks for those with the knowledge that Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 8. But they are all individual raindrops that can at times either fall soft and light, or hard and heavy.
Sometimes we have to stop and dry off our wings. The rain that didn't seem to hinder us at first is making it difficult to fly, and so we must find a place out from under the open sky, and let the water leave our wings.
In those moments we must retreat to quiet, to simplicity, and to uninterrupted stillness before Elohim, our Father and Great Love.
3 comments:
I really like this. I started to disagree, or formulate some perspectives to comment on...and then I read the end. Very nice. Is there something that prompted these thoughts?
i adore your posts jordie. i love how you write so beautifully and have some lesson or insight inside it, or in this case, at the end.
i miss you more than i can say. i really hope that i will be able to come and visit you in Boston.
i feel terribly, but school as kept me from writing you. i promise i will:) i have ideas and things i want to tell you!
love you my girlie
I'm glad you kept reading then Kara! Alot of times I make statements, perfectly aware that I could be wrong - but since most of my blog is just things I think about, I would be saying 'I think,' and 'possibly' and 'maybe' all the time. (:
Mandolin I adore your posts too, I love seeing what you are up to and how you are doing - I know youre super busy - and I havent ever been this stretched for time before! - but yes please, come see me. I think of you alot out here, you would like it I think. (:
I love you too!
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