Make your own free website on Tripod.com

Measuring My Days

May 2007
Home Christmas, 2009 November 2009 October 2009 Blank page September 2009 August 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 March 2009 Ad Dei Gloria February 2009 January 2009 Christmas 2008 A Christmas Story November 2008 October 2008 September 2008 August 2008 July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 The Coming of Jesus Christmas 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 Keepers July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 What Matters April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 Book Reviews Journals Favorite Links Contact Blank page

The fairest things are those that silent come; You may not hear the first approach of morn, And though you listen as the golden sum of hours fades into dusk, no sound is born. When the stars dance on high no bugles blow; The footsteps of the flowers fall silently, As softly come the blossoms of the snow; And clouds float by in pale tranquility. No voices herald moonlight on a lake, The silvery dew is still; these gifts are given as quietly as Christ, who for our sake was sent to us, the greatest gift of heaven. Tenderly now, as in the yesterday, He leads earth-weary children in His quiet way.” 

                                       Elizabeth Scollar

 These days my woods are coming alive with color  -- spring green, to be sure, but tinged with  showers of pink:  dogwood and redbud blossoms ballet in a slow-motion libretto of a mid eighteenth century minuet.   Blossoms emerged slower this year because those who keep records inform us that this April was colder than it has been in more than a century.  Nevertheless, heaven’s clock ticks on time, the planets tilt in orbit and revolve around the sun precisely on command of the Universal Timekeeper, making accurate both Big Ben and the Seiko watch.  Spring abides its time.  “Wait patiently for Him,” we are admonished in the Good Book.

Brother’s gift of a trillium that first year I moved to L’Abri is triumphantly up out of the grave, three-petaled, triumvirate, announcing the Trinity and the Resurrection!  I rejoice and sing with Handel: Hallelujah! for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. . . the kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of His Christ: and He shall reign for ever and ever. . . .  KING OF KINGS, LORD OF LORDS.!”  Custom and tradition prompt me to stand at the keyboard even now as I type these last words!!  For an exercise in inspiration, go read a brief biography of Handel’s life.

 

Coming home late one night back in mid-April, a gigantic gloriously golden full moon rose on the eastern horizon.  I thought of the many places around the globe where I had beheld that same moon, speaking to me of the Creator, a silent Voice made manifest.  “The heaven’s declare the glory of God; And the firmament shows His handiwork” wrote David the Psalmist.  Comments my New Geneva Study Bible: “God’s world is not a veil hiding the Creator’s power and majesty  (Psalms 19:1).  The natural order proves there is a mighty and majestic Creator. …In the end no denial of having received this knowledge will be admitted.”  Evolutionists, take note!

                                   

If we take the time to listen, thoughts, wisdom, music, memories come from our past where they have been buried in memory, in the unconscious, call it what you will. Thoughts, wisdom which put a lot of things in perspective, ideas surface which stimulate creativity, visions happen which grant hope and future, old affirmations return in strength, granting confidence and courage and hope. I think we need more of the wordless in our lives. We need more stillness, more of a sense of wonder, a feeling for the mystery of it all. We need more silence, more deep listening.

       Gilbert W. Bowen, in a sermon “The Gift of Listening.

 

Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege
Through all the years of this life, to lead,
From joy to joy; for she can so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,---
Nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.  William Wordsworth