Sometimes I am so overwhelmed by God’s creativity that I have no praise worthy, and can only stand hopelessly by and know that He knows the words He would have me use and hears them instead of the ones I can’t seem to know to say. These pictures tell the thousand-word blog I didn’t write, and you wouldn’t read.
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| Even in this cold weather, these are His lillies on the pond where we ride bikes every morning. |
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| The full moonset yesterday morning at Fair Haven |
I attended a funeral last night. It was immersive in that half of it was performed for the deaf. I say I performed because the deaf communicate bodily, a visual pantomime transferring information, emotion, spiritual truths, music, and wisdom, all without sound. When it is done well, it is like a symphonic opera to watch. When the audience is of the deaf and hearing the event is a celestial pageant befitting the sacredness of one passing from here to eternity. This funeral was done well. It was like the deep awareness we all feel inside as divine events transpire being given physicality; a bodily recital of grief, sorrow, joy, and hope in the deceased now living forevermore. There is nothing in the hearing world to equal it, a physical liturgy of holiness worthy of God’s affairs.
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| A Greater Love by Darin Ashby |
I am an old man, fairly simple. Last evening, as I pulled back my curtain, I found myself late to sunset. I also found myself locked in with a lock that bedeviled my old fingers to open, putting me in a state of urgency. Finally, successfully opening it and walking out in the yard for the full view, I was amused at myself for finding the sunset so important. Thus, I reminded myself that there are limited sunsets in an old man’s life. I was then startled because I began to weep with joy and was momentarily lost as to why I was responding so. However, almost immediately, I began to praise God for it was His Almightyness I was being a part of. Earth spinning away from Sunstar is a Divine rollercoaster, The Suncoaster, and I should hurry to get on. Later, my lover and I sat on the swing down by the river watching night become and I began to tell her things I like, beginning with sunsets. I like knowing all the knowing I have of 66 years. I like a good kiss. I like being in quiet, like nature, the softness of it. I like sitting close to her. I like a good dog and a good book. I like hearing our grandfather clock chime. I like thinking simply good thoughts… like God making Himself knowable to the old and fairly simple.
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| I told my lover she was primping for the Suncoaster ride! |
I am a wasted man, my emotion spent, sitting numb and with little life at my morning altar. I seek to revive a spark of life, a revival leading into this Sunday morning coming down. I have strong coffee, which my lover made earlier this morning before bed. I have read The Word and prayed. I opened the door and looked at the stars, knowing it was foggy and cold this morning. I am spent out. It was ugly, crippling stages of greatness bookended with bewildering ineptness. It seemed to go on forever. We got home after one. It’s tough to be a Tennessee Vol. Big Orange 23-that other team 17.
This week, I stood the closest to death as I ever have been. I witnessed how American medicine functioned at the end of life. It was loving and caring. My lover was a dear friend of the dying; I, a friend through her. When the time came, the doctor asked if the family was on the way and was assured they were. She administered a drug that wouldn’t prolong life but would allow the heart to continue to work for a little longer, hoping all the loved ones could arrive. I was deeply moved. The monitor immediately reflected the dying heart's change from an occasional weak beat to a steady rhythm. We said our goodbyes to a renewing beloved. The family began to arrive. We left. They died an hour later and, in a twinkling, arrived in paradise, where they were welcomed home.
I spend every morning with God and His earth, just Him, it, and me. I am reminded I am a performer, a man on a stage pouring forth myself in honor of Him. This is why I always try and place myself within the earth. It knows how to perform. All its glory and beauty open the day declaring His glorious kindness and creativity. Every actor knows its lines, hits its spot, and delivers a stunning performance. I like that about the earth, it knows its place and purpose.
I find it deeply moving that the Bible gives us a clear picture of the sincere obedience of the created world. “Hush be still.” and the wind and waves say, “Yes, Sir!”, the fig tree dies, the whirlwind is made host for God, water changes to wine, sticks sprout almonds, birds bring bread, donkeys talk, and my favorite, stones are reserved for singing praises. I have often picked up a stone and asked what praises it would say. Humans are the only ones who get to talk back to God, but only for a season. Eventually, He is going to say, “Get on your knees and bow down to Me!” and every one of us will say, “Yes, Sir!” Yesterday while bike riding I pointed toward the blue sky for Betty to look but as I did I began to wave at the blue. I laughed at myself because I knew, it was blue because He said, “Be blue!” and the sky said, “OK!” Ok is the best response when God is talking to you whether man, beast, or blue.
Amid unimaginable sorrow, the sky was as blue as clear sapphire. How can this be, tragic, hope? One defying the other? Mountains of debris and an old man slowly sweeping it up one speck at a time. Bitterness all around while Hersey Bars were passed out. Blue skies, sweepers, chocolate. Acres of destruction surrounding an acre of supplies. A beautiful young woman, covered in mud, weeping as she told of all the “Christians just showing up!” In all the disasters of life let this be known, Christ is the first to show up.
This is why He made blue, servants, chocolate, givers, thankers…and you. “To whom much is given, much is required...You are my ambassadors…In as much as you have done it to the least of these my brothers, you have done it to Me.”
In my lifetime the blanket was a treasure in our home. Blankets came only when there were enough cloth squares to make one. I still remember my granny's old trunk filled with these 4” squares saved from worn-out cloth. For me, the blanket symbolizes goodness, and kindness, an artefactum, crafted from a much earlier time. I have made three sculptures that are quilts. Last night there was a gathering in our home of old friends, those who crafted me in a much earlier time, those who were sown into the life of my youth. They are the early squares of my life, the treasures covering my teenage years, the holders of kind memories that tendered my often misspent youth. They are those, the ones who only knew me and me they, the beginning blanket sown with golden threads of immortality, wild-hearted exuberance, first loves, warm fall days, hard-fought Friday nights, and patched-up Saturdays. Their part of my blanket often warms the coldness of my aging days, those bygone sweet days of a certain innocence that comes only when one is new, when life is new, when all is new but not much is known. These are the loves of my youth, the pleasant squares that make the beginning of the blanket that I now cling to, easing my way into my ancient days. Those four years that made much of me.
For those who disagree with me. That’s fine. I don’t feel much need to prove or defend myself or correct you. Everyone believes many things. The internet has given us many more things to believe or not believe. My lover and I live off the grid and get little information from technology. Most of my thoughts come from my heart. I find the left-leaning and the right-leaning to be untruthful. Truth sources are rarely true sources. I naturally distrust popular culture, news media, and government. My parents taught me this. I feel those in the media and popular culture mostly believe what I do not. The Democratic party believes that it is ok to kill a child in the womb which I find abhorrent. My personal thoughts on this are there are lots of people who actually have an abortion out of desperation, shame, and guilt which I truly understand and sympathize with. However, a political party that celebrates it is craven. I believe an open border is treasonous and those who allow it should be tried, convicted, and jailed. It is like mandating that we all leave our homes, schools, cars, and business doors unlocked and unguarded. I believe one of the purposes of the Christian church is to protect us from the government. I believe it is my personal responsibility to help the poor, the needy, the foreigner, and those less fortunate than myself. I believe I must give 10% of all my wealth to the church to do these things. I believe I should give much more than that to do the same thing. I believe it is my personal responsibility to take care of the earth. I believe it is my job to take care of my neighbor. I own guns and carry them. I have Democratic friends, Republican friends, and most of my friends I don’t know and don’t care. If you disagree with my thoughts I am ok with you. However, I would much rather read your beliefs than read your comments on mine.
Our Mighty Tennessee River is the color of creamed coffee. Has been for four days. All that earth from the mountains of Appalachia divided between Tennnessee and North Carolina, is now stirred into her depths. It will soon be deposited across all of Tennnessee, parts of several other states, and eventually into the Gulf of Mexico, where it will spread across the world. Like a weeping lament heard round the earth sharing the grief of so much loss. “We therefore commit this body to the ground. Earth to earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”
Oh the glories of the sun, our own little star. What praise could come from my pen to equal your magnificent kindness? But I know it's not you littles, but He Who commands you. Oh to have been there when He said, “Let you be light!” and you were set ablaze and 8 minutes later our earth was glowing in glory only your little light could reveal. My world sings color this morning in anthems reserved only for the Divine, with a little help from my star. Thank you star!!!
I saw the stars this morning. My habit is to complete and start each day by walking outside and looking toward the heavens for the stars. They are often His voice to me, reminding me that each has a name He gave them, and each is in its place. Since last Thursday, I haven’t seen any, and since then great tragedy has befallen my beloved East Tennessee. However, this morning many were sparkling across my heavens, some still hidden by clouds, but there were a great host of witnesses. Stars are mysteries, ours is the only one we know and its kindness is so overwhelming we naturally think they all are like that, a great life-giving miracle of Divine love. That is why I look. I am unrelentingly in need of reminding of His Divineness and this week more than most. I saw the stars this morning and they said, “He is Lord, Lord indeed.”
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| His sun lighting His fruit. |
Monday, Sept 30, 2024
I live beside the Mighty Tennessee, which lays swollen before me, gorged on all the flood waters and sediment flowing here from Appalachia. All that sorrow fills her now like a great tragedy languishing, spent out, as she spreads prostrate in our Tennessee Valley. She will roll on to West Tennessee, a mighty preserve of open spaces to contain her. She will then push north into The Ohio, west to The Mississippi, and south to The Gulf, which birthed all her drunken wretchedness. I have prayed all summer for rain and finally got all our summer rain in three days, 12+” here at Fair Haven. It is hard to hold in my heart the joyous nature of rain and the utter tragedy of its destruction. My mind can’t make sense of it; desiring always to say, “I understand that!”. So little of life is understandable, such as war, poverty, death, unkindness, wickedness, evil, and sorrow. But one thing I cling to. Last night, as is our habit, my lover and I turned off all the lights and sat quietly and listened to great choirs singing great hymns. We then held hands and cried out to God for His help. This morning I sit beside the Mighty Tennessee as it rolls along, as it has since “Let there be water!” knowing again, “Fridays here but Sunday's coming.”
