Its 6:55 AM on this strangely wonderful Seattle morning; cuddled I am in my Heavenly Fathers arms at the start of a new day, shrouded like a blanket in soft, gentle rain.
I’ve had my McDs breakfast, the Seattle’s best Coffee lingers on into the warmth I feel, knowing anew that love and the sacred cannot be separated.
I feel like I’ve concluded a decades long journey into the darkness that is love’s longing, staring into the end of life‘s last run and asking; “Is this all there is?”
The Moody Blues sang it best in their single “Isn’t Life Strange?”. The writer, John Lodge lands where I have returned when he asks:
Isn't love strange?
A word we arrange
With no thought or care
Maker of despair
Each breath that we breathe
With love we must weave
To make us as one
You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry
Weaving love’s longing in despair, hungry for human touch, explored inside both empty and sacred spaces has been my life long pursuit. In just the last days I have more fully come home to the reality of the very prayer Jesus taught us to pray. “Hollowed be Your Name.”
Life is about ‘sacred spaces’ where love transforms bio-chemistry into meaning. A woman’s touch is ultimately empty were it not for the Story of relation that fills the powerful exploding receptors of the mind with a love that truly makes two, one. Where did that idea come from?
I stare into a picture drawn in just seconds for me by a gentle man who has lost what I perceive to be everything; his leg, his reputation, his friendships all stolen and that in part by the Church.
He tells me a story as he draws and reminds me of both life’s promise and danger, even as his arm with which he tries to steady himself is swollen to twice its size, puss pouring out of an open wound. I pray for him as he leaves to go to urgent care knowing that if this arm is not healed he may loose it as he has his leg.
I and Joetta leave and he knows not how deeply his pictures has focused God’s writing in my heart. Isn’t life strange? I want to cry, cry, cry.
Earlier that day I listened to the narrowing, clutching loss of another also loosing all she has lived for—at least that is what her mind, frozen in a time loop of despair tells her. There is little I can do to enlarge her story as the very gift of spirit that has allowed her to triumph over loss by means of forgiveness is now diminished not by love‘s failure, but by the bio-chemistry of age. I, we can only pray, encourage and safeguard her options fo live comfortably and importantly—remember for and with her.
Isn't life strange? A turn of the page A book without light Unless with love we write To throw it away To lose just a day The quicksand of time You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry
Yet, at the beginning of this new day when all of Washington DC will be entangled in political games of brinkmanship about outcomes of import to the nation, I am reminded by a radio commentator that within 50 years or less no one will remember the name Pelosi or Shumar or McCormick. Yet to my last breath or better, Honeygirl or Leua’s, Panapa’s name will be treasured. Why? Because his life, simple as it was, lived into love and service and joy!
Isn't life strange? A turn of the page A book without light Unless with love we write.
And where does this love come from? One Communal Source; Three Persons, each unique, so inter-woven by love as to be essentially One.
Wished I could be in your heart
To be one with your love
Wished I could be in your eyes
Looking back, there you were and here we are
Blessing! Terry
..and now, the day awakens.
Isn’t Life Strange: (Orchestra)
(Live with Orchestr)
Lyrics
Isn't life strange?
A turn of the page
Can read like before
Can we ask for more?
Each day passes by
How hard man will try?
The sea will not wait
You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry
Wished I could be in your heart
To be one with your love
Wished I could be in your eyes
Looking back, there you were and here we are
Isn't love strange?
A word we arrange
With no thought or care
Maker of despair
Each breath that we breathe
With love we must weave
To make us as one
You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry
Wished I could be in your heart
To be one with your love
Wished I could be in your eyes
Looking back, there you were and here we are
Isn't life strange?
A turn of the page
A book without light
Unless with love we write
To throw it away
To lose just a day
The quicksand of time
You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry
Wished I could be in your heart To be one with your love Wished I could be in your eyes Looking back, there you were Wished I could be in your heart To be one with your love Wished I could be in your eyes Looking back, there you were Wished I could be in your heart To be one with your love Wished I could be in your eyes Looking back, there you were Wished I could be in your heart To be one with your love Wished I could be in your eyes Looking back, there you were Wished I could be in your heart To be one with your love
Comments