tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21628832383888290882024-03-12T17:27:31.967-07:00By This Still Hearth - Age with PurposeAfter he returned from his adventures, Ulysses sat by his still hearth wondering what to do next. Getting older includes reflection upon life lessons we've learned and discernment about what comes next, but life is meant to be lived. We have become wiser than we think and we are meant to use the wisdom we've gained. Whether philosophy or observation, discovery or poetry, this is a depository not only for passive thought or memory, but a springboard for action. Life is more than breathing. JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.comBlogger512125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-87746295870630987682024-03-02T06:19:00.000-08:002024-03-02T17:20:47.098-08:00It's About Time!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVKdUGX5KD-JvYJVsFOaz7U_IjWygiIWRQOTQ2VMrX5rWYYCYn-jD6EMZ7w38MI8fclXL3RV1B6thLf3JPtbVLOhAfYw2mVRp-8rgnbn8zt_ETydXxNPv-1__0PuFxpu5JzaHrCG9SBtiId6vCKBbj7HrLSPMjj8EbNzv0ZhFohwwNZ2kt7pMoDWuulRA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="945" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVKdUGX5KD-JvYJVsFOaz7U_IjWygiIWRQOTQ2VMrX5rWYYCYn-jD6EMZ7w38MI8fclXL3RV1B6thLf3JPtbVLOhAfYw2mVRp-8rgnbn8zt_ETydXxNPv-1__0PuFxpu5JzaHrCG9SBtiId6vCKBbj7HrLSPMjj8EbNzv0ZhFohwwNZ2kt7pMoDWuulRA" width="111" /></a></div><br />This May 19, I'll walk across the stage at a downtown arena and graduate from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee after starting my freshman year 55 years ago in 1969.<p></p><p>Yes, 1969. I know. It's crazy. But it's also been eye-opening.</p><p>You see, I had to. I just got tired of kicking myself for dropping out. And also, I needed some answers. After living a looooong time, I found I still had too many questions and no one in my usual circle of wonderful family, patient friends, and fellow wonderers had the answers. You see, after all these years, I was still asking <b><span style="color: #990000; font-size: medium;">WHY. </span></b></p><p><b>Why</b> do we humans continue to mess up in the same ways over and over again? (we do) <b>Why</b> do we not do better even when we know better like the common trope says we will? (we don't) <b>Why</b> do so many people still think that humans are basically bad and infallibly handicapped, condemned by original sin by a God who loves them perfectly? (we aren't) <b>Why</b> still can't we forgive more easily? (we can't - darn) <b>Why </b>are young people so impossibly blind to it all, just staring at their phones? (they aren't). <b>Why</b> don't younger generations fail to see how much better a handle we had on the world than they do? (We didn't. Besides, it's not the same world, dude)</p><p><b>I mean, humans have been wondering the same things since Diogenes held his light up to the faces of strangers in the street looking for an honest man in 300-something BCE (I knew that before I went back to college, by the way) and we still don't have many answers. Or don't we?</b></p><p><b>Actually, there are more answers to be had than I thought. Here are some of the things I learned:</b></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Body, soul, and spirit feel like three things (Socrates and Plato thought they were, and from them and Aristotle, Augustine built our theology), but they're not. Humans have a single perfectly cohesive existence that has lots of moving parts. (Thank you, Marty Heidegger). Either that, or life is subsumed into a continuous stream of existence we share with every other living thing (Thank you, Nagarjuna). They aren't as different as you think. </li><li>Freedom is a two edged sword. While it brings autonomy, it also brings so many mind-numbing choices that it's beginning to paralyze the modern consciousness so that it feels like the only thing for GenZ to do is to hide their heads in escapism in an effort to stay sane.</li><li>When examined closely, life gets more and more absurd. The point of doing Philosophy is to find a reason not to commit suicide. (Thank you, Camus)</li><li>Social media was made to be the perfect place to share laughing babies and mutual victories, but has become the Valley of Despair.</li><li>Modern people are monetized at every turn. Our value to our social system isn't who we are but what we spend. Count the ads on your newsfeed sometime.</li><li>We might be in danger of becoming slaves to our own algorithms. (Alexa is always listening. You know she is.)</li><li>The pace of life has increased to the point where it feels like we are constantly racing toward nowhere.</li><li>The pandemic scared us to our core.</li></ul><div>No wonder 20-somethings have been hiding. They're terrified. They still have a whole life to live and they're not sure how to do it. </div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>They understand that Socrates was right. The unexamined life is not worth living and they are on the brink of that examination.</li></ul><p></p><p><b><span style="background-color: #f6b26b; color: #660000; font-size: large;">And in examining it, we find that in spite of all the terror and confusion, people, all of us, are infused with a dazzling glory - a kind of radiance that gives hope even in the face of all the weirdness of life. If we have the courage, even once in a while, to look at the hard questions together, we may not be able to solve them all but at least we'll be together. Even after all the desperation, if we have the courage to be honest together, good things happen.</span></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBUBXNmEkHcehcVUUfE4Y9915gvY40o8o27SioywHWaElTZfo8xr73tDbT2u7KkGl2y316wtibXkFy0Plj0TgAe3Wc6xRmiVf8-qexe5v2VQjlhUFgRAWXpXKHpCoRBap76wq6CJROyef5y4jAKiaUtTOeSuDrZD39k-4LMkZSvvcHMwWsiRNwx9noLI/s1600/prodigal%20son.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1513" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBUBXNmEkHcehcVUUfE4Y9915gvY40o8o27SioywHWaElTZfo8xr73tDbT2u7KkGl2y316wtibXkFy0Plj0TgAe3Wc6xRmiVf8-qexe5v2VQjlhUFgRAWXpXKHpCoRBap76wq6CJROyef5y4jAKiaUtTOeSuDrZD39k-4LMkZSvvcHMwWsiRNwx9noLI/s320/prodigal%20son.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><br />And they happened right in front of me. In classrooms. In coffee shops. In chance meetings in the Union. In the caring, brilliant natures of several professors, but one in particular. I will not forget the grace he showed me. In intentional, unpredictable friendships between me and smart, insightful young people who ended up wanting the same things I did and were willing to talk about what might be done to make this world a better place. <p></p><p>In the process, I found out how to care about those young people. They are much smarter, much kinder, and much more thoughtful than I think we were at the same age. Remember saying "Don't trust anyone over 30" and meaning it? They don't. They not only respected me, they made me their friend. And they made me want to do something for them in return.</p><p>So I'm going to. I advise you to do it, too. Listening, really listening, would be a good start.</p><p>More on that later. For now, I'm just going to finish the semester and celebrate. If you want the details, and a taste of some of the wonderful people I met, the link to the University article appears below. Thanks for asking, Pat Kaasa. </p><p><a href="https://uwm.edu/letters-science/in-focus/keeping-it-old-school-a-very-nontraditional-student-reflects-on-the-life-lessons-shes-learned/" target="_blank">Click here to connect to the full article. </a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-24853817787176017142024-02-27T04:10:00.000-08:002024-02-27T04:10:37.854-08:00February 29 is not a real day<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9o0QC84BxHjPzj9VII0Mr23N2lxeVkfjGVQChkE-T4i2KcfY-afQwSOVdzmrN6wlZtj-esQzRCg_TKUz58zsrgFzO7bEkBSJCvQqwqsJC9Q-Gq3BgUOULkmjxKsrpjk2Bt7qv7AAZf_7dVf4IAVKylbgD1VIYfv_74M--5YcRTbDJY85VsWNYALHOdXU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9o0QC84BxHjPzj9VII0Mr23N2lxeVkfjGVQChkE-T4i2KcfY-afQwSOVdzmrN6wlZtj-esQzRCg_TKUz58zsrgFzO7bEkBSJCvQqwqsJC9Q-Gq3BgUOULkmjxKsrpjk2Bt7qv7AAZf_7dVf4IAVKylbgD1VIYfv_74M--5YcRTbDJY85VsWNYALHOdXU" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Leap Day.</b> <b>Really?</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>No. It's Not.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>In fact, February 29 is not a real day at all, and I have proof.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was developed as a place holder, after all. An adjustment to keep the calendar in line with the sun and the passage of the actual astronomic year. With that purpose in mind, it was given a purpose, but no significance. All it has to do is come and go so as to keep the other days in their proper places. Nothing is supposed to happen on February 29. No one plans anything on it because it cannot have an annual anniversary. No one gets married or graduates or anything. Heaven help the person who is born on it, who is condemned to get older without getting to celebrate their actual birthday.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>And this year, February 29 has proven it's non-dayness even more.</b> Even the weather has deserted it. Today is February 28 and here in Wisconsin, Spring has already arrived. The perennials are sprouting in my garden, we've put away our winter coats, the sun will shine and the temperature will reach nearly 70 degrees. In two days, on March 1, predictions (which are usually right regardless of how much we complain to the contrary) are that it will be the same. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>But the weather on February 29 doesn't fit.</b> It's either been transported from another dimension or has just decided to take a day off altogether. Nineteen degrees and snow. I keep looking at the forecast to decide whether someone has made a horrible mistake or is playing some kind of joke. Nope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But in the context of the calendar, it makes a wierd kind of sense. February 29th doesn't belong.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nineteen degrees doesn't belong.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Snow doesn't belong. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And no one is leaping. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>It is just God's nudge to see whether we're paying attention. </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think I'll stay in bed.</div>In fact, I think I'll publish this today just in case it doesn't come after all.<p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-31647827087258866712024-02-21T08:36:00.000-08:002024-02-21T15:04:44.285-08:00Building a Life, Stone by Stone<p><br /> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ3u_UfckyJtz5k4272GwWlLmkTX3xoSH2bmA&usqp=CAU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="207" data-original-width="243" height="207" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ3u_UfckyJtz5k4272GwWlLmkTX3xoSH2bmA&usqp=CAU" width="243" /></a></div><br />Did you know that when the builders in the Middle Ages erected their cathedrals with their great barrel vaults and pointed arches and flying buttresses, it was the not the mortar between the stones that kept them standing? The mortar didn't serve as medieval masonry glue but as a thin layer of leveling, smoothing the imperfections between them, one to another, to provide a continuous contact surface so that <b>when one brick sat on the one before it and was followed by the rest, their combined weight would press them into a geometric shape whose weighted thrust extended in straight lines right through them into the ground.</b><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTJ7LfBoAkgF6KNJ-UVTSvAXQv5zB7Cfw5CvQ&usqp=CAU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="140" data-original-width="360" height="140" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTJ7LfBoAkgF6KNJ-UVTSvAXQv5zB7Cfw5CvQ&usqp=CAU" width="360" /></a></div><p></p><p>It wasn't the mortar that kept the building together. It was the horde of gradually assembled stones that wouldn't work until each had taken its place. Not until that had happened, and the stones had time to sink into one another firmly by virtue not of a masonry glue, but only by their own accumulated pressure, would the great soaring structure be finished.</p><p><b>And so it is that the weight of years forms a life.</b></p><p>It has often seemed that as the years of my life increase, so does the weight of them so that I carry them as a kind of burden, like a sack I have to throw over my back before I can go anywhere. But I've been looking at them wrong, I think. Maybe they aren't a burden, but a building - a magnificent cathedral of lived days that I don't carry, but live in, roaming its rooms, examing its structure, admiring its beauty. Each stone has been laid painstakingly on the one before it day by day, adding weight, yes, but also creating stability. </p><p>My building isn't complete yet until I've lived my last day, but it is taking shape into something I couldn't see coherently until now, when the building is nearly complete. What began as a fortress has morphed into a cathedral of Gothic lace, and I can't help but think that is what it was meant to be all along. </p><p>And it is beautiful.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTDhQyLyu9DzNtV0Y_AcM29XTIovWxL8oo1vA&usqp=CAU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="273" height="185" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTDhQyLyu9DzNtV0Y_AcM29XTIovWxL8oo1vA&usqp=CAU" width="273" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-50847948861994470242024-01-21T13:36:00.000-08:002024-01-21T13:41:43.568-08:00Who's Your Daddy?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiafkTtvZ1ldZO9a7EUbUzXb79y8blkExKv_EG0nTDkJ02j9AG3n9JdtfPAmCDSI4eXToC86vmT9b0D8WPh3akPNseXVod8mkKFJ9jGYMo1_LM6-mgxjcPqC-hzbASYTcrAo0ViICZIav1thlvKcvvn7GcTmn3-RqDDXnl5UAhcvePVJZurq66Wql4LIVY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="700" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiafkTtvZ1ldZO9a7EUbUzXb79y8blkExKv_EG0nTDkJ02j9AG3n9JdtfPAmCDSI4eXToC86vmT9b0D8WPh3akPNseXVod8mkKFJ9jGYMo1_LM6-mgxjcPqC-hzbASYTcrAo0ViICZIav1thlvKcvvn7GcTmn3-RqDDXnl5UAhcvePVJZurq66Wql4LIVY" width="320" /></a></div><p><i>I gave the following message at the First Congregational Church, Rochester, WI, January 21, 2024</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m going to talk about Abraham today and I’m going to
start with the lyrics of a song, not a hymn, but a song Bob Dylan wrote in 1965....<o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">God said to Abraham, kill
me a son.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Abe said, man, you must
be putting me on.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">God said no. Abe said
What?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">God said you can to what
you want to, but<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Next time you see me
coming, you better run.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Abe said, where to do you
want this killing done?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">God said out on Highway
61.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay, so I used this because it’s fun, but also to show
not only how famous Abraham’s story is that even a not so good Jewish boy from
Minnesota knew his Old Testament well enough to write a protest era rock song about
Abraham. But also to show how easy it is to get stuff within the story
wrong. Dylan got the killing part right, but he missed something important
about God. Anyway, Abe’s story starts a long
time before the killing incident, so we’ll start with a brief review.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Abraham, one of the Old Testament patriarchs, is often said to be
the biblical example of faith. <span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Born almost
2000 years before Christ, Abraham did a lot of traveling under God’s direction,
but didn’t start until he was already an old man. When he was 60, he left his
home in Ur to go to Haran because God told him to “Leave your country and go to
a land I will show you. I will make of you a great nation.” He didn’t know
where he was going but he believed God, so he did it. Fifteen years later, when Abe was 75, God
sent Abraham to Canaan. God said, “I will give this land to you and your
descendants” and this was harder to believe because Abraham and his wife,
Sarah, had no children and he couldn’t figure out how, at their age, that was
going to work. He didn’t understand, but Abraham still did it. A year later, after
he took his family to Egypt to avoid a famine and returned to Canaan, God said
again, “I will give this land to you and your descendants.” This time, Abraham
spoke up. He asked God how in the world he was going to do that because he
still had no children. By then, Abe’s wife Sarah thought God might need some
human help, so when Abe was 76, Sarah told him to sleep with her handmaid and
sure enough, Abraham had a son, Ishmael, but God was not distracted by that. Ishmael
was not the promised son. Finally, 24 years later, when Abe was 100 years old, after
they’d waited 40 years and Sarah was 90, she finally had a baby by Abraham –
Isaac. Isaac was the promised child. Isaac would be the future of the Hebrew
people. They were overjoyed. Their belief had been rewarded. Abraham, through
Isaac, WOULD be the father of a great nation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">This is how Hebrews 11 summarizes
the story: By faith </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote13"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">q</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Abraham obeyed
when he was called to go out to a place </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote14"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">r</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">that he was to
receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was
going. <b>9 </b>By faith he went to live in </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote15"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">s</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">the land of
promise, <b>10 </b>For he was looking forward to </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote18"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">v</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">the city that
has </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote19"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">w</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">foundations, </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote20"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">x</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">whose designer
and builder is God. <b>11 </b>By faith </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote21"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">y</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Sarah herself
received power to conceive, even when she was past the age, since she
considered </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote22"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">z</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">him faithful
who had promised. <b>12 </b>Therefore from one man, and </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote23"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">a</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">him as good as
dead, were born descendants </span><a href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/hebrews/11#footnote24"><sup><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #1977de; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">b</span></sup></a><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">as many as the
stars of heaven and as many as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">So far, so good.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Then when his son Isaac was 33
years old and in the prime of his manhood, God told Abraham to kill him. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">After
all the moving and waiting, God was asking Abe to do the one thing that would
make all God’s promises impossible. He for sure didn’t want to do it. He loved
his son. But he also wanted to obey God. It didn’t make sense to kill Isaac,
but it hadn’t made sense for God to send him moving from place to place either
and God had made all of that work out. Everything had happened so far exactly as God promised. So Abe would
kill Isaac to obey God and God would after Isaac was dead, make him, through
Isaac, the father of nations. He just didn’t know how God would do that. So Abe
went, not to highway 61 but up to Mount Moriah, to do the deed. He took His
son, and a rope, and tied him to an altar meant for sacrifices. And Abe raised
the knife. <span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #3d3d3d; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">This
is what we’re going to talk about today. We’re going to talk about what Abraham
did and why he did it. We’re going to talk about how Abraham believed and who
he believed in. And we’re going to talk about how it would look for us to have
the same kind of faith.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">The
thing about f<span style="background: white; color: #202124;">aith is that it
doesn’t exist in a vacuum. A person has faith in SOMETHING. Faith doesn’t exist
apart from the object being believed in. In order to have faith at all, we have
to have a clear picture of the thing believed. And then, because of what we
believe, like Abraham, we DO something.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">For
Abraham, he believed God was his sovereign King and he acted like it. He
listened and obeyed. He also believed God was trustworthy. God had promised the
birth of Isaac against every common sense and delivered on his promise. <span style="background: white; color: #202124;">God had also promised him that Isaac
would be his inheritance and his gateway to a nation of descendants. Abe, standing
on Mount Mariah with the knife in his hand, didn’t know how God was going to do
build a nation from his descendants if he killed his only son, but he knew that
somehow, God would do it, just like he’d done everything else. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Now
we have to figure out who WE believe God is. Think about it a minute. Answer
the question for yourself. Who is God? Complete the sentence - God is blank.
Then fill in the blank. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">How
many of you thought God is <b>Love? </b>You’re not alone and there are lots of
similar ways to express that love: faithful, good, kind, steadfast just.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">the
Bible agrees:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span class="d9fyld"><span style="background: white; color: #040c28; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">1 John 4:16
</span></span><span class="hgkelc"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">God is love, and
whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #081c2a; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Listen closely. That’s not only a definition, It’s an
instruction. It tells us to do something. It tells us, that if we love, we must
abide.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span class="hgkelc"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span class="hgkelc"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">So, if God is love, we abide in Him. That means
staying close. It means remembering God in everything we do. It’s making sure
he has a chair at every table, a seat at every meeting. It’s whispering to him
like pillow talk in prayer. It’s holding hands with him while we walk. It’s spooning
with him in sleep. It’s staying so close to Him that he’s like an extension of
ourselves and we couldn’t walk away even if we wanted to. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span class="hgkelc"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span class="hgkelc"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">If God is love, we also expect and accept
forgiveness for sins. Abraham never knew Jesus, but this kind of love was the
reason Jesus was born and died. This love is God’s assurance that there’s
nothing we can do, as long as we love Him, that’s irredeemable and even when it
seems like we’re lost beyond God’s reach, we’re not. It’s having confidence
that God never acts out of anger or revenge, regardless of how it looks from
our point of view. This is what Dylan got wrong. God doesn’t threaten us with
destruction if we go wrong. He forgives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #202124; font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span class="hgkelc"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> If God is love, we are loyal and forgiving not
because a person earns it but because God is. We give the kind of love He
gives. We treat everyone as equals because He created us all and we are equal. We
look past our differences to our similarities. We act humbly and inclusively,
not boasting or excluding anyone. Anyone. We’ve all heard about the tax
collectors and prostitutes Jesus hung with. If God is love, we take care to recognize
our own tax collectors, our own prostitute. They are there, waiting for us to
love them. I was recently reminded that people who treat us badly often do it
because they are afraid of being hurt themselves. We look past our prejudices
by always ascribing a worthy motive to someone else rather than judging them. We
think good of them, not ill. That’s what loving someone else as we love
ourselves means. </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">God is a
lot of other things, too: omniscient (all knowing), omnipotent (all powerful),
eternal, sovereign (in charge of everything), and of course, holy, but the idea
of transferring our understanding of who God is into action is the same for all
of these cases. This is the kind of faith Abraham had. And, in a
perfect world where we can do all of this, we would, too. However, what really
happens can look quite different.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Faith in action can be hard. It was for Abraham, too, because faith is more than knowing God
exists. Understanding that God exists is a starting place waiting to be made into
flesh and blood. Real faith is built in individual communion with God.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Like
Abraham. He didn’t tell anybody what he was going to do when he took Isaac to the mountain. He didn’t tell Isaac, or his
wife, not anybody. Abe’s act was not a public one –It was a one on one
interaction with God. He didn’t expect Isaac to survive. He expected him to die.
Abe didn’t know what God would do after Isaac’s death, but knew He would do
something. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Isaac
was Abe’s whole world and future. He was the promise. In Abe’s willingness to
kill him, Abe gave his everything to God. He resigned all his plans, all his
future and that of his people into the unknown. Why? Because he believed. And
because He believed, he trusted because i<span class="hgkelc"><span style="background: white; color: #202124;">f God is love, we also trust Him. We
behave with confidence in whatever circumstances come, no matter how they look,
remembering that God always – ALWAYS-has our best interests in mind. If the
circumstances are hard, we know that the difficulty is good either for us or
for someone else or both. If the circumstances appear to be evil, we remember
that Jesus came to have victory over evil, so no evil can confound God’s plan. We
don’t worry about what we don’t have or what
we want to happen or spend a lot of time trying to make things work out our
way, but instead letting God arrange them his way.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">The
thing is, God doesn’t always, or even often, leave easily recognizable
signposts saying “Here I am” and as a result, we spend a lot of time guessing,
and sometimes getting it wrong. And that’s okay, because God is love, remember?
It’s not about getting things right every time. It’s about wanting to. It’s
about leaning into God all the time and looking for Him right there with us,
because He is most likely to show up in places we least expect Him, like in a
burning bush or on Mount Moriah, taking the knife out of our hand. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">God,
because He is unimaginable, lives in the place we can’t imagine and He reminds
of this us every time He does something we didn’t think of or don’t want to happen.
God lives in the unthinkable because He Himself is unthinkable. When He tells
us not to fear, it’s not because nothing scary will ever happen. It’s because
our plans are the only ones that will be upset. His will not. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">But
when our plans are upset, what happens? We worry. We’re afraid. We can’t sleep.
When the unexpected comes, it takes us by surprise and confidence in God isn’t
always our first response. So when it’s not, then there’s something in the
adage Fake it Till You Make It. It works. Abraham did it. If we’re scared, behave as though we
are not. If we irrationally worry, do what we should. We disarm our fears not by
running the other way but by entering into them, grabbing them and shaking them
until they reveal the damage they are doing. Making them show their real face. Does
that take courage you don’t think you have? You bet it does. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">One of my favorite stories is about the a Chinese Christian mystic named Watchman Nee. He was considered a holy man and one night, while he was just hanging out smoking his pipe in his living room, a demon appeared on the staircase. Now the demon was doing scary, demony things like growling and snarling and cursing him. After a minute or two, Nee stood up, walked over to the demon, looked at him and said, "Oh, it's only you." He was scared when he did this, of course, but the demon didn't know that. All he heard was Nee saying, "I know who you are. You can't hurt me because I know who God is." The demon had no defense against
Nee’s faith.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Remember,
God only brings us what we’re supposed to have. He means us good, not harm.
It’s a trust fall. Did you ever try one? To stand in front of someone and just
lean back and let go without asking first, without looking to see if they’re
paying attention, and just collapse and see whether they’ll catch you. It’s an
amazing experience, and God wants us to do that with Him. Every time. We can
fall into His arms with complete confidence regardless of our fears and reservations
because that is the only way to faith, the only way to find out how magnificent
God really is.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">Remember
that God asked the worst, the hardest thing of Abraham and Abe walked right up
to it and he raised the knife over his son. Do you think Abe’s hand wasn’t
shaking? I’m willing to bet it was. He does the same with us. God gives us
situations we don’t like and puts the knife in our own hands and asks us what
we will do next. When we have the faith and courage to raise it, he will say,
see! Look what I am doing. I am making all things new in a way you could never
have imagined. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">To
God, unexpected change cannot unmake His plans. To God, death cannot unmake His
plans. When we act according to what we believe rather than how we feel, God
meets us there, hands out to catch us, because we know who He is. He is love,
and he is just, and he is sovereign and he is holy. When we reach back to him
in return, we find, like Abraham, that God moves His heaven and his earth to give
us faith and bring us rescue. That is Jesus’ story. That is Abraham’s story. It
is meant to be our story, too. May it be.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p><br /></p>Image courtesy of Third Hour<p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-47361571789801094922024-01-14T12:02:00.000-08:002024-01-14T12:02:25.236-08:00Requiem<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTvkr5UoSPN5IAplAvMeONfOVif4XpMePptvU1F6xyFAxHwdrQK0rpFHjLdlAex3AJj8ahxC-Xdrl5_BnF-XT-oxwk3NfXJq9QKqe0rE4cjYbU7zAhdi6is98ctyDkg4wM8BJMZHnSvcdCguTsr3l2ww49-hiRIVA7xgSFJ8m0HFVjdKgvt4YDKpU5GSU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTvkr5UoSPN5IAplAvMeONfOVif4XpMePptvU1F6xyFAxHwdrQK0rpFHjLdlAex3AJj8ahxC-Xdrl5_BnF-XT-oxwk3NfXJq9QKqe0rE4cjYbU7zAhdi6is98ctyDkg4wM8BJMZHnSvcdCguTsr3l2ww49-hiRIVA7xgSFJ8m0HFVjdKgvt4YDKpU5GSU" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Requiem<o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">December
18, 2023, New York Times: U.S. Steel to Be Bought by Japanese Rival </span></i><i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Pure power.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I saw it once.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Showering from the pregnant mouth
of a smelter in liquid stars.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Birthing its own dawn,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">cascading into wide waiting trenches,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">consuming every atom it approached.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">scorching even the air.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">What began as iron and cool coke<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">exploded to life and purpose<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">from a chemist’s dream, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">not steel but vision <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">grown into monument<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">carrying us shoulder high<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">wide as invention,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">broad as courage<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">solid as unbound minds. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It was so beautiful.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It lost no grandeur<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">even as it grayed into slab,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">cooling as it moved.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Dignified even while consecrated
to<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">hot rolls pressing it to near
paper,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">and rocketing out, thundering,
into coils,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">bending into the place mortals
live<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">to meet a Hephaestion future
forged in its own furnace.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But when future came,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">the god lingered and lagged. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Grandeur and dignity faded,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">romance reduced to pragmatic
function.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Steel still breeds from formulaic
components<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">but the spark smoldered and died.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">No fresh sun rises to the blast.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">No new charge promises a bloom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There is weeping in Gary.<o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p>Image courtesy of Science Photo Library</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-56951330033673569062024-01-06T09:28:00.000-08:002024-01-06T09:28:00.153-08:00First Snow 2024<p> </p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Everyone begins
in the dark, stumbling, grasping for purchase. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Looking for the
way to light. Footsteps to follow.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWavmJJR0MjtV5vXxA9CmizXcLUO82iUYkIAWHPxXOqYRVh-JaHtSy0SnkTPEzVDytVoogOR9aEE71Ywu14SRRz-j1LJwSZIzEF5T4uTdTxcI2Fs0C4oAVk6ab6Va686U8O5IaCApV_eyr30Ax_EK2gk2cUrLo6GZOVUl4BveI9eVUPahg7Ot85Ev6-Rs" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWavmJJR0MjtV5vXxA9CmizXcLUO82iUYkIAWHPxXOqYRVh-JaHtSy0SnkTPEzVDytVoogOR9aEE71Ywu14SRRz-j1LJwSZIzEF5T4uTdTxcI2Fs0C4oAVk6ab6Va686U8O5IaCApV_eyr30Ax_EK2gk2cUrLo6GZOVUl4BveI9eVUPahg7Ot85Ev6-Rs" width="180" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Hearing hollow
echoes, distant owl-sounds,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Emptiness so complete
that breezes make the only noise, and <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">snow muffles
even that. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Mother-love is not enough, the
breath of God that bolsters only infants.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Beauty nestles
there, and warm refuge, but no passage. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Giving little
revelation when delivered into an urgent, constantly turning world <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">both whirling on
itself and wheeling through a star-cast space <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">That forces motion
without specifying direction.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Show me the
way.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Ah! A companion!
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhra7wqCkrP6P-o4ttt-OovMC9z8rz6-fGs0v0t-hiAn9VCh-6eiRfhE19wiC6b4NUfW5fMs8fKNWIn1qqGJHYxM3WjbhOWfKvsBDl62Ub7vHlKdQng_Nj2DaprE8wHobCDuS4V_RwPeUGF9QC8mnhLk2keZT4jEBcZkOa9ZeiR5A0XxxhVALh0tHm-_28" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhra7wqCkrP6P-o4ttt-OovMC9z8rz6-fGs0v0t-hiAn9VCh-6eiRfhE19wiC6b4NUfW5fMs8fKNWIn1qqGJHYxM3WjbhOWfKvsBDl62Ub7vHlKdQng_Nj2DaprE8wHobCDuS4V_RwPeUGF9QC8mnhLk2keZT4jEBcZkOa9ZeiR5A0XxxhVALh0tHm-_28" width="180" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Reason, logic,
formula, rule, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Discernable patterns
with stable roots. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: 291.15pt;">Frames.
Handholds. Stakes in the ground.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Paths marked by
firm signposts that climb clear one on another.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Someone to walk
with. Aristotle’s salvation.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">But that path
tends toward a crowd, bending in common direction, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCT7mOlNJQWomQhldduLGwEQPPL6EQeoHd5zRLh9RN1VpdpQw7E93Rm9-nIAGIXWVwMQG7elUliF4DGnoZ-wItqSS2KrpGVplUCELlmBnfjrR1iT84ip7P33cQHT3td5vgCKiPQN5S2AR9DEIlpWkZamQBrf6INw5G93v8gYdgoQfaqnmFqipPEHytNFM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCT7mOlNJQWomQhldduLGwEQPPL6EQeoHd5zRLh9RN1VpdpQw7E93Rm9-nIAGIXWVwMQG7elUliF4DGnoZ-wItqSS2KrpGVplUCELlmBnfjrR1iT84ip7P33cQHT3td5vgCKiPQN5S2AR9DEIlpWkZamQBrf6INw5G93v8gYdgoQfaqnmFqipPEHytNFM" width="180" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">All finding the
same solace in coherent method: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Syllogism.
Analytics. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Forward circles
on itself, becoming backward in helical stasis, patting itself on the back.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Leaving Beauty
behind. And Grace. And Good.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">The din of
agreement going nowhere.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Nearby, nearly
unnoticed, a cagy Socrates and refined Plato leave their marks.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4CX8VDVNnVhQ2BzFj0jF-i2-VuGkGZbIL8aof3R6goqo4WD_JZIa1Mu2q1JLT-Z1pmQnLs_RgCgmA_2yISMig_TBqpW4msnYj1UWAZrnXSGc-n2HEE1gmxB7ClTMziR35ErTYIfh-gOO4b4r3w5TBmyInkpKLN9xvXkkJKsuwOqVDM9fcCeRZCZ_vaOk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4CX8VDVNnVhQ2BzFj0jF-i2-VuGkGZbIL8aof3R6goqo4WD_JZIa1Mu2q1JLT-Z1pmQnLs_RgCgmA_2yISMig_TBqpW4msnYj1UWAZrnXSGc-n2HEE1gmxB7ClTMziR35ErTYIfh-gOO4b4r3w5TBmyInkpKLN9xvXkkJKsuwOqVDM9fcCeRZCZ_vaOk" width="180" /></a></div><br /> Ignoring the
crowd, they stalk, leaving reasoned steps behind, to a riverbank. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEij0FVYRdhF4fu3Xmh1keCxiMwS9AoIzA4qKiUAIVdkw-uS4QFphkqTF1TovHbaJIRC3aVpHRHAWO4eabJo8upVuOtdUWsBFAGtpHSzck7luqbqEhiyCQJR-T4oMNxAV7FvHAoPOWy5vASh7Ih7IVHpSi_PydXhKgYFFXpbUhOe-RuYbylPJ4IAx44fXf0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEij0FVYRdhF4fu3Xmh1keCxiMwS9AoIzA4qKiUAIVdkw-uS4QFphkqTF1TovHbaJIRC3aVpHRHAWO4eabJo8upVuOtdUWsBFAGtpHSzck7luqbqEhiyCQJR-T4oMNxAV7FvHAoPOWy5vASh7Ih7IVHpSi_PydXhKgYFFXpbUhOe-RuYbylPJ4IAx44fXf0" width="180" /></a></div><br />They point to
where measured feet have no place to land and where only the willingness to
flow allows movement. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">The crowd
scatters.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dycmOVu-_OUd7gN0IgH8kUOXBm3D_giSgf0HRlZ4WF7ce51nCdGu9IOQR2EnTYQXvN4ulkogUlCPCeVHnijeA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">The way
forward, effortless and punctuated only by geese rising, laughs in delighted rapids<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyx2k1lp7i_x1Bi3qnLj588NZfuZBxGiFiPpifBNHxk3nk3yvrBaOIdV2Cn9Uj79CxtE10p4CTz3wWLTYX09w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">And the place to rest appears.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivzDsGC6NEKb_QQoQhlK04l9IDeOWBdT2azGL1eSQB6bGOXfLhslm3-Wsm8hUcTJLyp_OOlKivXleXMjIb1lV1b-95nwi-ULFPD0lghCyD-EEELfcmo2YImFF-cPlXVzvwk_rPyzgu3n0dg1rixmRyt3vL0u9CoFZ-sTcLGaOGiiB5rfOLq5amJAvS608" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivzDsGC6NEKb_QQoQhlK04l9IDeOWBdT2azGL1eSQB6bGOXfLhslm3-Wsm8hUcTJLyp_OOlKivXleXMjIb1lV1b-95nwi-ULFPD0lghCyD-EEELfcmo2YImFF-cPlXVzvwk_rPyzgu3n0dg1rixmRyt3vL0u9CoFZ-sTcLGaOGiiB5rfOLq5amJAvS608" width="180" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All images photographed by the author</i></span><p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-75429241346224829812024-01-02T06:07:00.000-08:002024-01-02T06:07:21.180-08:00Trust Fall<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEWdHmN-EahnaRKwbg1-LSL5L3tdALFjeX3eusOC8KPFXeJcvwTDFGY1jhBQr1Kbs790PBdVyAl_dOgKoZoXdW61yS5GwonKFP1fV8l1irsSNBt7TR_2AvAuxUItCC0UtzU4Whzqtg6r6iBAkCd1_uNnwfNaRx8fNM8cT0kNKPhmG_C-Vmu6NQukTNiwU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEWdHmN-EahnaRKwbg1-LSL5L3tdALFjeX3eusOC8KPFXeJcvwTDFGY1jhBQr1Kbs790PBdVyAl_dOgKoZoXdW61yS5GwonKFP1fV8l1irsSNBt7TR_2AvAuxUItCC0UtzU4Whzqtg6r6iBAkCd1_uNnwfNaRx8fNM8cT0kNKPhmG_C-Vmu6NQukTNiwU" width="240" /></a></div><p>I was thinking this morning of something I used to do.</p><p>From time to time, usually in the confined space of our galley kitchen, when I was standing casually in front of Dave either cooking or talking or generally doing something else, I would collapse. I'd just let go limp and fall to see whether he could catch me before I reached the floor. </p><p>It was a test of some kind, I guess, because we both knew I had trust issues, like a lot of us do.<b> It's hard to relinquish control, </b>after all. We work so hard to get it and when we do, don't want to let go. After all, who knows what would happen if we actually fell? It's true. </p><p>Of course, we all know that <b>whatever control we think we have is an illusion</b>. We are, in the end, all subject to forces way beyond our control, but who wants to admit that, much less live it? </p><p>But you know what I learned? It's freeing. It feels absolutely fabulous to the point that, even if I actually fell, it wouldn't matter. It would be absolutely worth that one moment of freefall. </p><p>In time, I came to understand that the trust fall thing was just a metaphor for something else. What I really wanted wasn't just that single moment of freedom, but an assurance that there existed somewhere a kind of erasure when the bounds of what divided me from the rest of the created world, even from God Himself, slipped away. </p><p><b>It was about more than trust.</b></p><p><b>It was about a momentary union with the infinite</b>, a kind of flight that released me from all the strings I was trying to hold, all the future I was trying to weave, all the security I was trying to purchase with the precious energy of my life. We can't do it, though, and if we live long enough, we realize that. Eventually, what we work so hard building melts away in a single moment beyond our control.</p><p>That's why, I think, Jesus told us to build up treasures in heaven. He didn't mean not to live our life, but to live it with what really lasts in mind. Circumstances twist and turn, but<b> the energy we invest in building up God's treasures, the world and people He made, well, that lasts.</b> It shatters the boundaries that separate us not only from each other, but from Him.</p><p>I don't intend to erect or fortify one more barrier in this world. I have little time and no constructive energy for it. And, when I remember what it feels like to trust that God really does intend the best for every one of His creatures, I can fall into His arms with ease.</p><p>It's reassuring to remember, too, that He reinforced that thought in the last thing I was able to do for Dave while he lived - to catch him, to keep him from falling when he was too weak to stand on his own, and to tell him, "Don't worry. I've got you." He had done it so often for me, never failing to make the catch. Of course, all those catches were illusions, too. In the end, it was God doing the catching every time. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Photo courtesy of Maestri Gallery<p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-88774174716933122702023-12-31T05:40:00.000-08:002023-12-31T05:40:10.901-08:00Standing in the Prow of the Ship: A Lesson from FDR<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnILmxRVl3UtLBaw-PpkfR6o9aeu1iL-xxSfG6mFh_37e1cQspcajZWGoxNWyB00vCDio7H_rmtZctM3xiIuvqdfjYRsz33qflkNpoqthrUiFeF-yij-YLwoUAhomWdz5luEU7sSm5WbfzOPnaFVbM0_I8a1BLAvF4zU-7IimAJ8S4pj9YXwnXPU81UZ0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnILmxRVl3UtLBaw-PpkfR6o9aeu1iL-xxSfG6mFh_37e1cQspcajZWGoxNWyB00vCDio7H_rmtZctM3xiIuvqdfjYRsz33qflkNpoqthrUiFeF-yij-YLwoUAhomWdz5luEU7sSm5WbfzOPnaFVbM0_I8a1BLAvF4zU-7IimAJ8S4pj9YXwnXPU81UZ0" width="180" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><b>Franklin Delano Roosevelt used to describe the porch at his "little White House" in Warm Springs, Georgia as being as "high as the prow of a ship.</b>" He established Warm Springs not only to bring him a place to rest and rehabilitate in the face of a depression and wartime presidency coupled with the ravages of a twenty-five year detente with polio, but to provide the same for other polio victims. He described it, however, not in terms of a fixed place on earth, but in terms of motion, of vast strength, and of unlimited space. Not the usual frame of reference we expect from someone living with a handicap.</p><p><b>There is a lesson here</b>, and it grows from two aspects.</p><p>The first is pretty obvious - FDR was crippled. He had no use of his legs for half of his adult life but before the affliction, he grew up in New York, close to the ocean, and before he became President, served as Secretary of the Navy. He knew well the feel of being on the water - not just a lake or river, but a watery expanse of biblical porportions, with no end in sight from any angle. No landmarks, no obvious road ahead, and no guideposts. Just water in every direction. <b>That boundless view, along with his natural optimism, kept him from focusing on a world collapsing in on itself because of physical disability.</b> Rather than looking inward and seeing his world shrink, he looked out and saw it without restriction. He saw is spreading out on all sides before him, split by the prow of a great ocean liner, steaming ahead into a future he not only welcomed, but helped engineer. </p><p>The second is seeing, if only in retrospect, that <b>FDR's disability could have been the single qualification that made him most uniquely able to guide a floundering country through the 30's and 40's.</b> As a nation, we were faced with a brokenness we'd not known since the Civil War and had no idea what to do next. FDR did, every time he remembered his useless legs. He knew what it took to go on when the future looked hopeless. He knew that handicap and death were not the same thing. He knew that, even the boundless ocean has a shore somewhere, and had already developed the grit needed to hold firm in search of it.</p><p><b>Those of us who are aging have the same choice to make. We may not have polio, but we have other maladies and restrictions to endure. We can let the horizons close in, or we can board our own ship, raise our eyes to the horizon, and welcome each broad sunrise, engaged to the full limits of our ability, aware that storms will come, but so will the rainbow.</b></p><p>We are exactly where we're supposed to be. Every time we are given is intentional - a trust, a gift.<b> </b>Like FDR, we have something to do and the only way to begin is to take whatever step we are able, with or without legs that work.</p><p><b>Death is not the worse that can happen. Missing the life we're given is.</b></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBn874s4Oiy6Fani71MlaQEfMqbYnVAgs65IT8xzV5Bvwe0Uk_N3l331PiPEQWjubbjjQ_gpWnJlHUbWZ9T2IspDR0KwnidKarE9CeruZnC_fdeIIoBc_x4qrYaDRCdM6pOp2QR7zBrmloTFilD0FAEnPgShHGlQJ3y-HcTMZv5NSeMOi3dV0vmDCvSww" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="764" data-original-width="612" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBn874s4Oiy6Fani71MlaQEfMqbYnVAgs65IT8xzV5Bvwe0Uk_N3l331PiPEQWjubbjjQ_gpWnJlHUbWZ9T2IspDR0KwnidKarE9CeruZnC_fdeIIoBc_x4qrYaDRCdM6pOp2QR7zBrmloTFilD0FAEnPgShHGlQJ3y-HcTMZv5NSeMOi3dV0vmDCvSww" width="192" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>Photo 1: View from QM2 via Facebook group Queen Mary 2 Experiences and Advice</p><p>Photo 2: FDR sailing a yacht in 1933, photo courtesy of ebay</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-86420478967227115232023-10-05T05:29:00.001-07:002023-10-05T05:42:59.200-07:00Being a Human<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://st.depositphotos.com/40355204/53374/i/1600/depositphotos_533743216-stock-photo-fallen-yellow-foliage-hands-man.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="800" height="234" src="https://st.depositphotos.com/40355204/53374/i/1600/depositphotos_533743216-stock-photo-fallen-yellow-foliage-hands-man.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Yesterday, one of my Philosophy professors lectured about being human - about how a bird knows how to just be a bird and a dog just a dog, but we are not nearly as good at being just a human because we can reason. It's the reasoning that puts a distance between the borders of our skin and the rest of the world, that draws a line around us and says: This Is Me. And because we are so aware of ourselves, that awareness interferes with our just being what we are. The same reason that makes us more than animals also makes us less somehow. It might be that the most successful humans are the ones who leave at least some of their reason untapped, trailing down behind them like a thread hanging from the bottom of their pant leg, forgotten, unaware, not missed.<p></p><p>It is a lie this reason, this awareness. It tells me there is more, something shining and bright hot, that feels like a spirit, and that this is what makes us most human beyond the flesh and blood we share with animals. Maybe it's not completely a lie - maybe it's partly true, but only partly because this bright center is also what makes me unhappy because it is always just out of reach. </p><p>The leaves are coming down. Yesterday I kicked through a yellow pile of them lying next to a curb on the way to walking to the edge of a big lake whose border is so far away that it lies beyond the visible horizon. The leaves may mean that another year of growing things is dying, but they just might mean that dying things can be beautiful. Or they just might be lovely leaves.</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-63355112638024335142023-08-27T12:39:00.000-07:002023-08-27T12:39:29.585-07:00The Earth is Full of Gods<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwa4NhaRtsiNMXNU9cTpNYWZ_GOxVSGTYZFx55UowFSCVhF8s3NBcLcwuzHjyYX8inOiQBttXt1m1QGpGKoTzmfdizFJaf_8nNWHJwYWMwSD5U9bzFMDZAzjJDNzRXafGzA3_lXmgUwW-vH9Yh6alWinjv5Y_fe-PcsVFPtx0ANycX_zJ5I_J_D-Ed2ns" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwa4NhaRtsiNMXNU9cTpNYWZ_GOxVSGTYZFx55UowFSCVhF8s3NBcLcwuzHjyYX8inOiQBttXt1m1QGpGKoTzmfdizFJaf_8nNWHJwYWMwSD5U9bzFMDZAzjJDNzRXafGzA3_lXmgUwW-vH9Yh6alWinjv5Y_fe-PcsVFPtx0ANycX_zJ5I_J_D-Ed2ns" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">The earth is
full of gods.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Water folds
upon itself, always in motion.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Gentle hands
push one ripple upon another<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">And urge fish to
break through melting glass.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Distant mouths
blow clouds into layered piles,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Painting quiet
blue beside stern gray, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Shaping sky
into banner, promise, and mobile roof.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Living things
all around expel in rhythm – <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Warm whisper to
fierce assault.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Farflung lungs exhale.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Rain drops tears.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Storms vent
anger.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Stars glance beneath
lowered lashes.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">It’s all
motion.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Fish glide.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Elephants
rumble. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Bears lope.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Men stride.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">There the
mourning doves signal a new day<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">And I track
fresh light against a far shore.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Leaving no
traces of wind, a mighty hand turns our earth towards its sun.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">The earth is
full of gods who have not yet seen fit to withdraw their favor.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Though I have
taken a million before, every step is unlike another other.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Each day’s
secrets reveal themselves as benevolent fingers open one by one.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">A day will come
when I will not open these eyes,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">But this isn’t
the day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">The earth is
full of gods<o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">And they are
kind.<o:p></o:p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-36066450637286381382023-08-22T07:14:00.001-07:002023-08-22T11:06:19.562-07:00Why We Go To Church<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9pGKs3N8X3siPQRLreVoXommewnJNrvW4xJDojWQeUsZIJ9pMjgNtuC38PxCMDDz2hqGMAdObczgIXA2ER4aAUYO9-uA7LB-8_aKtX2ld7OOzKj85-aiwkVefqZKz3T7KtSeNVH_KbDICZMahsGwZVJaeYYKklW0HLc9t3kZ2kPirEML20moyWfmiVw/s133/colander.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="133" data-original-width="114" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9pGKs3N8X3siPQRLreVoXommewnJNrvW4xJDojWQeUsZIJ9pMjgNtuC38PxCMDDz2hqGMAdObczgIXA2ER4aAUYO9-uA7LB-8_aKtX2ld7OOzKj85-aiwkVefqZKz3T7KtSeNVH_KbDICZMahsGwZVJaeYYKklW0HLc9t3kZ2kPirEML20moyWfmiVw/s1600/colander.jpg" width="114" /></a></div>The following is an edited version of a sermon given at the First Congregational Church of Rochester, July 30, 2023.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Why Do We Go To Church?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I got the idea for this message's subject from a friend, Mary, while we were sitting in the local coffee shop. "You know what I want to hear a sermon about? she challenged. "Why We Go To Church". That was a fine subject, I thought, so I did a little research. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Everybody doesn’t go to church. Half of Americans
don’t go to church even once a month. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Interestingly enough, though, a lot of people who stay
at home on Sunday mornings actually believe in God. Barna research says that ¾
of unchurched people own a bible, 2 of 3 say they are spiritual.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So, some folks who believe in God go to church and
some stay home and we still have to answer Mary’s question. Why do we….the ones
in church this morning….go to church? I thought I knew why I did, but needed to see what other folks had to say, so I asked them.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">ANSWERS<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When I was a very young Christian, this is what I was
told: We go to get fed by the Word. That sounded right at first. Another answer was that w</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">e go to be encouraged or corrected in faith matters.
— also sounded right, but these days, when I'm a little farther down the faith road, it seemed a little too pat and didn’t get to the root of
the matter.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A surprising number of the people I asked said they go because they’re
supposed to or </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">because they’ve always done it. That's also true, but
also falling short of a real motivating reason.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So I kept asking. As it turned out, a lot of the
people I asked had answers like these;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We go for the fellowship of people who think like we
do.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I go because I need a positive influence in my life,
because it makes me feel good, because the people are nice, because I’m
accepted as who I am.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I feel closer to God when I go to church, in a small
church around people who are like me, who have God in their lives.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Church is the pillar that holds the rest of my life
together. It is not a foundation for my faith, but self-preservation. I need
it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I was getting somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This last group of people all thought it had something
to do with supporting and being supported, with sharing and understanding. That
made sense.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We sometimes refer to the church as the house of God
and Ps 84 says that one day in God’s courts is better than a thousand
elsewhere, but Jesus said that God doesn’t live in this or any building. God
lives primarily in us. So maybe we come here because even though there is
enough God in every believer, when two or three are gathered He isn’t just in
us individually, He’s in us corporately, and when we’re together, we are
enabled to do something new in His name. I liked that and thought it was
leading me in a significant direction. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It does feel good and right to spend intentional time
with people who think like we do, who believe the same way, and with whom we
can build and work and contribute. It makes us feel safe. It makes us feel
effective. We belong. But there are also dangers that come with doing that –
the unintended consequences of hanging out intentionally and regularly with
people we love and who think like we do.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">DANGERS<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Danger #1: It can lead to self-satisfaction and
complacency. When everyone around us agrees with us, we tend to think we’re
right.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Danger #2: It resists change and change is necessary.
Warm fuzzies don’t usually come with change. We want to do what we’ve always
done, but we are an ever-changing group gathered around an eternal gospel and
it’s only the gospel that doesn’t change.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Danger #3: It can make it hard to fold in the new
people God brings us, people who will necessarily upset our familiar apple
cart, or at least rearrange it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t think that can happen here? It happened in the good
and loving church that helped me to my first intimacy with God. And it happened
slowly, so slowly that we hardly noticed. In the end, the devastation was so
complete that it broke some of our hearts. For others, it broke their faith.
And I learned something in the process. I learned that any church can lose its
way, but t</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">here are some </span><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">warnings signs for churches that
start to stray.</b></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">One warning sign is treating
church like a club– Clubs are by definition exclusive and we don’t get to
exclude anyone because Jesus didn’t. We have to take great care that whatever
membership we establish in a church doesn’t artificially lift up members simply
for the reason that they belong. We are to be set apart for God, but we are not
to set ourselves apart from our fellow men by pride in ourselves as being
members of this church or Congregationalists or Protestants. Those are man’s
separations, not God’s.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Another is thinking
of church as a theatrical display to be watched. Our times together are not to
be observed but a common prayer to be participated in. We are here to be
together, to raise one voice to God, to be more together than we can be alone.
It doesn’t matter how eloquent we are or how good our singing voices sound. We
gather to give our best to God, whatever it is, and not to the ears of other
men, even our own parishioners.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Another is thinking
of church as a religious jamboree designed to make us feel good. Church is a
privileged encounter with Christ. With or without bread and wine, it is
supposed to be an intense communion. It’s like any time we get together with
someone we care about. We talk and eat. Orderly but not by rote. Organized but
not automatic. An outpouring of love from all sides. God speaks to us. We
respond.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There is also danger in thinking
of church in terms of an institution or a denominational affiliation. The giveaway is
saying "I am a…". Those are the creation
of men, not God. God’s church is a movement of believers where people share
collectively and apply what God has given them. Locally, we are a very small
part in a worldwide machine that Jesus set in motion to encourage people to
holiness – different but not better, faithful in fellowship only to Him who
gave His life for us all. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We love our church and we love each other. It’s one of
the reasons we show up Sunday after Sunday, but we have to be aware of the bear
traps, because when we have the courage to declare ourselves to the world as a
group gathered for the specific purpose of honoring the creator of the
universe, bear traps come with the territory. Labeling ourselves a church tells
the world we are different. It wasn’t always that way. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">HOW WE GOT HERE – HISTORY</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">For the first 1500 years after Christ, everybody in
western Europe was Catholic. The word Catholic means universal because it was. Nobody
was anything else. The sacred was part of everyday life and everybody shared in
it together. During the Reformation, common life began to be separated from
faith life because, for the first time, Christians had choices. Reformers expected at first that they would
fix what they thought was wrong with the Catholic church and go forward united
in belief and practice, but that didn’t happen. The Reformation created
division not only from a corrupt Catholic church but from other protestant denominations
to the point that competing denominations went to war. Things got so bad that
Reformers could see no way to stop the bloody conflict other than to worship
separately in order to govern corporately. This is the origin of the separation
between church and state and ultimately, between church and every other aspect
of life, but it worked. The new protestant denominations that resulted from the
Reformation eventually stopped killing each other and figured out how to live
socially side by side, but only by coming to terms with an institutionalized
separation between sacred and secular that persists today and continues to
widen so that God is disconnected more and more from common society. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So, In the 1500s or 1600s, religion and politics
parted ways and here we are, 500 years later, dealing with the aftermath. <b>It’s
easy to forget that one of the only places left where we can combine our faith
and community lives is in the church.</b> Now, the church as we know it has become
the only place where the sacred and the secular can come together again. Church
is the place we come specifically to learn from God and also learn how to live
those lessons outside the church. This is where our feeling of community comes
from. This is why it feels so special, because it is.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> The church is
the only place we can teach, exhort, encourage, and advise one another
regarding how to live our faith in common ways in the world. We have to gather
to do this because there is nowhere else to go. The divorce between community
and faith life is virtually complete.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This is the legacy of the Reformation:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l3 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Religion
changed from a way of common life to simply ones’ own choice and opinion
regarding God, beliefs, devotion, and worship. We call this religious freedom
but it has become at the same time religious confusion and detachment. Religion
became intellectual rather than visceral, a mind activity rather than a heart one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l3 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We
now have the right to our own religious anything, subject to our own rules and opinions
and we can change our mind at any time for any reason to the point of
absurdity. One of my college classmates had his drivers' license picture taken with a colandar on his head because he convinced the DMV that is was part of his religion. The prank started as a test and ended up an example of the scrambled religious world we live
in. No civil law reins us in. Church has become about self – our decision to
believe. Our decision to join. Something that started as very public became
something private. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l3 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Religion
has been demoted to just another pastime to be taken up or put down, a kind of
hobby like fishing or painting rather than what it was intended to be – the
most important way we inform, educate, and guide our lives together. It may not
be a good thing for faith to be dictated by the state, but it is also not a
good thing for faith to be parted from the fabric of our lives altogether. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l3 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We
are now a secular, not a religion-based society – not a religious world. Not
anymore. There is a kind of strength and growth in learning how to agree to
disagree but it does not bring with it a clear way forward. As a result, our
common society feels lost.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">God, however, is still working. The same confusion
that we inherited from the reformers puts the church in a unique position. It
makes churches stand out. It gives church special status and visibility. And
most important, it makes the church a potential haven for the sacred. The
church, of all the places we can choose in this world, can be the one place we
remember and act out something better. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We Can be a Haven for the Sacred in This
Secular World</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This is how it’s done – this is what the church does
that helps us fulfill God’s intent for us as the bride of Christ:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We share bread and wine in a banquet that’s happened
for hundreds of years, and will happen into eternity. God feeds us, we feed one
another, and become one people in Him. We don’t just remember – we participate.
This is the communion He made specifically for us and it is, like every other
behavior He specified, the best of what we can know in this world.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We pray together, not because we’re eloquent, but
because we’re needy. We state our faith together. We sing not because we’re
good singers but because words sometimes just aren’t enough to express the
glory we find in God. We come together to learn how to make all the parts of
our life work together again – the sacred and the secular – and we do that
because we understand that nothing is really secular if we do it right.
Everything belongs to God and is for God.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We study the Bible together because even though we do
it alone and hear God in the silence of our private hearts, He reveals another
layer of Himself when we do it together.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We make church a place of conscious and active
participation in building up not our own parish customs, but building up the universal
kingdom of God. Where two or three are gathered isn’t just His promise to be
here in church – it’s a reminder that He is already both here and in the larger
world and He wants us to engage with it in His name. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When we do these things, we declare to whom we belong,
in church and out, we become the light Christ asked us to be. <br clear="all" style="break-before: page; mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">CONCLUSIONS – The Answer</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So why do we go to church?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo4; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> <b> </b></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>We
go to church to learn to live together in spiritual health and holiness</b>. If we
depend on ourselves for spiritual understanding, all we get is ourselves. We
may get input from God if we’re listening carefully, but we won’t get the
benefit of what God has done in anybody else. There is value in learning the
layers of meaning and the richness of the Bible, and in understanding church
doctrine and history, but we can read the Bible at home and God will speak
truth to us. We need each other to discover more. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo4; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> <b> </b></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>We
go to church to learn to live together in practical union</b>. The head of the
church is Christ and we operate only in union in His name. In union. As one, in
His one church, but with different views, backgrounds, and opinions. Being
patient and grace-filled with one another. We go to church to learn how to
apply our faith in the real world, first among the brethren who think like us,
then in the world of those who do not.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo4; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> <b> </b></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>We
go to church to work.</b> Not like we do a job – to build or to achieve or to earn
money. Instead, we come to church for its own sake, for the sake of the encounter
itself, not to support a building or gather money to pay our pastor or to
establish relationships. We do it for love, immediate love for God, like we hug
a child or feed the hungry or tend the sick. Church is a corporate declaration
that God is the highest possible good and we come to church to show Him in ways
beyond those we can do alone. We bring the best of what we have individually
and put them together to make more. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo4; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>We
go to church because God’s lessons have to be applied in flesh and blood.</b> The church
is at its root messy. We all have to be prepared for messy - it’s part of the church and what we’re
supposed to learn in it – how to get along. That’s why we call it a family. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">From the beginning, the church functioned
not as a separate, privileged entity, but to show believers how to fold their
beliefs into everyday lives. Our primary connection to God remains individual,
but our way of working it out has to be communal. After all, we need to learn
to share earth because we will undoubtedly share heaven. We may choose our
companions in this life, but God will choose them for us in the hereafter. This
is why living a Christian life alone isn’t enough. Trying to live a life of
faith alone is like learning to play the piano on a cardboard keyboard. You
never make a mistake because no real music is produced.</span></p><div style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: 1pt solid rgb(217, 217, 227); margin-left: 0.25in; margin-right: 0in; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 0in 5pt;">
<p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: none; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in; padding: 0in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #374151; font-size: 14pt;">1.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #374151; font-size: 14pt;">Hebrews
10:24-25: "And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love
and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of
doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day
approaching." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: none; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in; padding: 0in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #374151; font-size: 14pt;">2.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #374151; font-size: 14pt;">Acts
2:42, 46: "They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to
fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer... Every day they continued
to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate
together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of
all the people.”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: none; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.25in; padding: 0in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">3.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></b><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #374151; font-size: 14pt;">Colossians
3:16: "Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and
admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the
Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts</span><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
</div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">We show we are Christians by our love, because when we
live and work together in Christ, we make each other better and thereby glorify
God. Our personal experience of God is enlarged by what we share together.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Church is the place where the gospel comes alive. The
setting may be a living room, a coffee shop, or an intentional building like
this one. They can all be churches when they all share two things in common –seeking
together the truth of God and the desire to live and love it out in the real
world. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And that, Mary, is why, and how, we go to church.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-69617518798957417202023-08-21T07:22:00.000-07:002023-08-21T07:22:15.788-07:00Out of Practice<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iaYsW9b859PLlY0dMrcEqCGGQflj7S_bUjM8tZfottQeFV4m_pWUe-djdfpzeCIwf5zY8-xgyxxEji4Krc6fYkSiI35FjpkGgIMmgRCD84mwPaI9wRUf8qwGR6lTHZUMN3Q4IzNEEUSAwsDuWGdOFq9CKSgIx4gqfI4A0h5BM82OkFRwDs4T4J3uPTo/s1920/piano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iaYsW9b859PLlY0dMrcEqCGGQflj7S_bUjM8tZfottQeFV4m_pWUe-djdfpzeCIwf5zY8-xgyxxEji4Krc6fYkSiI35FjpkGgIMmgRCD84mwPaI9wRUf8qwGR6lTHZUMN3Q4IzNEEUSAwsDuWGdOFq9CKSgIx4gqfI4A0h5BM82OkFRwDs4T4J3uPTo/s320/piano.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>This is my piano yesterday morning. Look closely and you will see it. Dust, and a lot of it. Laying on the keys, black and white, like feathers. It's easy to look at the dust and see a reflection of poor housekeeping, and it may indeed be so, but there's more, I think. What I see when I look at the dust on my piano is something between the failure of good intentions and weakness of discipline.<p></p><p>This is the piano I bought two years ago because I missed having one. I missed the sound and feel of moving my fingers across the keyboard and listening to the rich tones that resulted. I missed Fur Elise and Greensleeves and the Moonlight Sonata, all of which I knew once, but have mostly forgotten. The hand exercise would be good for my arthritis and the music good for my soul. But somehow, because I once knew how to play these things, I thought they would come back instantly. I can hear the music in my head. Why wouldn't my fingers remember just as easily? </p><p>But it didn't work that way. It didn't work because I didn't practice. I didn't do the very thing I needed to do to make it happen. </p><p>One would think that, by this time we would have figured out some of this out - some of the basic life truths regarding good and evil, right and wrong. Oh sure, in theory we have. In theory in the world at large, in the great 'they', or in someone else's life. But I don't like those truths when I have to employ them myself. They're hard. They require discipline and focus. The require more than knowledge, more than good intentions. </p><p>In order to play the piano again, I need to actually pay my dues all over again, like with any other learned behavior. I'm out of practice, and it takes practice to do anything well and, eventually, more easily. That's true of exercise, of good eating habits, of learning, of faith habits, and of loving well, as much as it is true of playing piano. It's true of anything worth knowing or living. </p><p>It will take more than a dust cloth to fix this. It will take action. I should have known that all along.</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-62372353744207107942023-07-14T06:56:00.003-07:002023-08-21T07:26:28.335-07:00Life after 70, Podcast with David Tracy<p> <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/northgate-cafe/id1609775253?i=1000606579794">This is a great place to share my own adventure as well as a few nuggets about living life at 70, thanks to my sweet friend, David Tracy</a>--click here!</p><p><a href="https://player.fm/series/northgate-cafe/living-life-to-the-fullest-after-age-70-joanne-potter">or click here</a><br /></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-43968318745291524512023-06-26T06:12:00.000-07:002023-06-26T06:12:31.621-07:00Skin<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NNHypd9Tnhdf22ZJ4CDVsfklI2-0iFN0rNCxplElFL-1NcZx-OY2dK2ysmudddsVPIyiosObVNgQdBE2OruK2jzD0HTg-IsuQZ9szuZvV_6U2o22cM7Z6SRvv6luqxjkVCru1Mh1OM6K4wbbMKYudZXUrVxKWEwH1u0Nmub1beDCfy3OD5jcxN4KVNk/s275/skin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NNHypd9Tnhdf22ZJ4CDVsfklI2-0iFN0rNCxplElFL-1NcZx-OY2dK2ysmudddsVPIyiosObVNgQdBE2OruK2jzD0HTg-IsuQZ9szuZvV_6U2o22cM7Z6SRvv6luqxjkVCru1Mh1OM6K4wbbMKYudZXUrVxKWEwH1u0Nmub1beDCfy3OD5jcxN4KVNk/s1600/skin.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><br /> There is a kind of self-awareness that Descartes, the French Enlightenment philosopher expressed as "Cogito Ergo Sum" or "I think, therefore I am." In the philolosophy world, this phrase is called simply the Cogito for short, forms the basis for a whole school of thought called Rationalism, and is one of the few philosophical declarations that persists into common culture. <p></p><p>It's a springboard for self-examination and self-study wherein one ruminates upon one's own condition and place in the world. Based on a basic understanding each person exists as a discrete human being, separate from all others, it is the beginning of our understanding of what we call personhood now. </p><p>As one adds years, however, the nature of that awareness changes because, well, we change. Life begins by building and growing, but if one lives long enough, eventually evolves into shedding and simplifying. The skin is perfect mirror for these changes. When we are young, the skin can barely hold all that we are and do. It is fine and smooth and full of young oil. </p><p>Like a balloon, however, we can't possible continue to expand. Long lives accumulate too many experiences, too much knowledge and understanding, for young skin to contain and the strain of it is reflected there. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><u>Skin</u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Satin yields to crepe as taut and plump dissolves into slack
folds,</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Accomplished adventure looking for release.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What is done is not left behind but carried,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Years less burden than welcome weight.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gradual deconstruction remarks survival and triumph - <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Allows accumulated pressures to fall away,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Disassembling their hidden gathered strength<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Rather than preserving dangerous retention in visible beauty<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Until skin can no longer contain it <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And gives way in frantic cogito,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p>Imploding like a star. </p><p><br /></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-59688110030273560012022-10-22T09:44:00.001-07:002022-10-22T09:49:37.439-07:00Some Raspberries Don't Ripen until after the Frost<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-_CpeuTV3YG3xDCICwSiA6skN9iedcmLUXzqoh8xpAMjzniIsnfQJJ7do7s-0dALvxpgVlXgsqel5PNQ-OtRCZStbWxn-nh3KmMdxmYObQjcIdBjz1Ue-dA6Jyk65yIVVTQHZT2xXu0aLubUciWcET4BdS923x-e9t52v7C_cYrl00pjBMG85uiu/s1280/oct5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-_CpeuTV3YG3xDCICwSiA6skN9iedcmLUXzqoh8xpAMjzniIsnfQJJ7do7s-0dALvxpgVlXgsqel5PNQ-OtRCZStbWxn-nh3KmMdxmYObQjcIdBjz1Ue-dA6Jyk65yIVVTQHZT2xXu0aLubUciWcET4BdS923x-e9t52v7C_cYrl00pjBMG85uiu/s320/oct5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Some raspberries don't ripen until after the frost. It wasn't what they were made to do...raspberries are meant for hot summer days and long sunshine, when their juice gathers sweet and they turn red day after day in tart waves. Then, it seems like there will always be more. I know better, of course. I know that the days will get short and cold, and that the time for raspberries will pass. But they don't.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eUmJ0TBea4uw9YcennoXbqS-Z63aE51DO9-M0bYTvONDfNUd5XkVIRUYCBLEDkyss-kFeYSN9zn04lPerCHqDT8A3Ut56-ureN9bQ4637SoylpAgRmAUY4z0NH0ogWoWeRP9dZCT96A0BR82OTpM6iyARkJOOa_MaCWsuuOE4aZMMGjp4QXftfqP/s1280/oct%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eUmJ0TBea4uw9YcennoXbqS-Z63aE51DO9-M0bYTvONDfNUd5XkVIRUYCBLEDkyss-kFeYSN9zn04lPerCHqDT8A3Ut56-ureN9bQ4637SoylpAgRmAUY4z0NH0ogWoWeRP9dZCT96A0BR82OTpM6iyARkJOOa_MaCWsuuOE4aZMMGjp4QXftfqP/s320/oct%202.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Some roses don't bloom until October. When all around them, more predictable buds turn to hips, they refuse to prepare for sleep yet. It doesn't matter that so many around them are ready to store up what energy is left to them and save it for other days. They use everything they have left now to remind the world of beauty. They know it will be a long winter and and they've made their job memory.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyzTWhq23o0kXyCfiNMj5SlWEEtXfx0n3ha_M9L-KSo9VupT9-08WrG2UeItFYQF1dn9lYXaUJMiC1RuDKD0npUaxFLGHqrKHDVgmR374LW98ViPa0_4jlT26CsAotysBpGbX0nP52PIxGgE-Gk6GudIyyXkRyJOaWxd8m5PmR-zi9R5GKY87M--N/s1280/oct3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyzTWhq23o0kXyCfiNMj5SlWEEtXfx0n3ha_M9L-KSo9VupT9-08WrG2UeItFYQF1dn9lYXaUJMiC1RuDKD0npUaxFLGHqrKHDVgmR374LW98ViPa0_4jlT26CsAotysBpGbX0nP52PIxGgE-Gk6GudIyyXkRyJOaWxd8m5PmR-zi9R5GKY87M--N/s320/oct3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Blanketflowers just don't know when to stop. For them, it could still be June, when they first poked strong stems up from sleepy dirt, just then gone warm. All summer, they bloomed thick and sunny and liked it. They must be addicted.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrwmm70Mh8BUqxEEdMCjHHCoYa0kGyZGfJVDUHbzVvIkpbjPLp-M_tQ-8in27lztUpoPadaqf6khRj7l9D118CwbZ61Gzm73dbii8SbkP_zY0nV-CoSvRqjjXDHeeEnQCvzCv2F52gvCOqLCroGMIeP_0q9Kd_yw58w-t6B3zal_xZWx6v2VBCM20/s1280/oct%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrwmm70Mh8BUqxEEdMCjHHCoYa0kGyZGfJVDUHbzVvIkpbjPLp-M_tQ-8in27lztUpoPadaqf6khRj7l9D118CwbZ61Gzm73dbii8SbkP_zY0nV-CoSvRqjjXDHeeEnQCvzCv2F52gvCOqLCroGMIeP_0q9Kd_yw58w-t6B3zal_xZWx6v2VBCM20/s320/oct%201.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>The daisies are probably laughing. In June, they bloomed dense, crowding each other for sunlight in sensational, snowy clumps. Then they stopped, but their leaves stayed green. Now, they give a single gift like a child holding a dandelion to his mother. Here, this is for you. I love you,</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_V_mo56Nbs6tc0AmIQAdF5oXWCfnybt-9M9c_CoygU5PeS062EqVOJ8wCJn1kQS5cihDEp9qPKIoZcWNs1NyAuHcdBbDwr1opJGv8q_yCxQqDg7-oC1sLqbNwsubC8vC3qcj0a9DAKfEO1LrqiOdUf917nrqmxKCvgBpceVkD62CKTUk5GbWhkgC/s1280/oct4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_V_mo56Nbs6tc0AmIQAdF5oXWCfnybt-9M9c_CoygU5PeS062EqVOJ8wCJn1kQS5cihDEp9qPKIoZcWNs1NyAuHcdBbDwr1opJGv8q_yCxQqDg7-oC1sLqbNwsubC8vC3qcj0a9DAKfEO1LrqiOdUf917nrqmxKCvgBpceVkD62CKTUk5GbWhkgC/s320/oct4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>I think maple has been listening to them all, having refused to turn proper maple-y red and gold. It concedes only its tips to autumn, telling me that it, like all the others, knows what time it is, but has so loved feeling the sap run and favorable breezes. They are not ready to die.</p><p>Me either.</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-64960449358243792622022-10-01T05:52:00.000-07:002022-10-01T05:52:28.626-07:00Last Berries<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUVu7Yr5bUOrNHVzmO5eSaYQRbQq4nQ71vwdw1oapiAko3UcZ1LOLeVGcUfxQS7yubxz_-N_GTTSmdz7EmPjIXVSfCLMolBYO2TCLBlj-EkqmIWQlWmRjrsaIkVQRSQZ4y5tE6A5zwqcGBh31CX2nPKB1_arq7Efns3lq7Vf-oNHp6iyyRdH_p71Yz/s1280/berries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUVu7Yr5bUOrNHVzmO5eSaYQRbQq4nQ71vwdw1oapiAko3UcZ1LOLeVGcUfxQS7yubxz_-N_GTTSmdz7EmPjIXVSfCLMolBYO2TCLBlj-EkqmIWQlWmRjrsaIkVQRSQZ4y5tE6A5zwqcGBh31CX2nPKB1_arq7Efns3lq7Vf-oNHp6iyyRdH_p71Yz/s320/berries.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />My raspberries fruit twice - <p></p><p>once in July when the sun is high and hot, </p><p>when bees circumnavigate their busy route between blooms, </p><p>leaving me to reach between them for my breakfast -</p><p> and once in September, when dew hangs heavy on their leaves </p><p>and branches don't tolerate bending but, anticipating brittle cold, </p><p>snap when I lift them to peer underneath for the purpling berries hiding there.</p><p><br /></p><p>My raspberries fruit twice - </p><p>once when still young and supple, </p><p>confident of many more risings and settings, </p><p>when, exposing their heads to the sky, </p><p>look unafraid toward productive tomorrows, </p><p>full of juice and beauty.</p><p><br /></p><p>My raspberries fruit twice - </p><p>once when nearly done, while leave curl dark at their edges,</p><p>and their buds are almost spent, </p><p>nudged into fruit that may not have time to ripen.</p><p>These branches bend under accumulated weight,</p><p>grown from resisting the storms of a full season and </p><p>the weight of small, green berries that will not have time to redden.</p><p><br /></p><p>My raspberries fruit twice - </p><p>early and late,</p><p>young and old, </p><p>carefree and wise,</p><p>innocent and full of days.</p><p>One life, one season,</p><p>producing what they can until one perfect frost cuts them off.</p><p><br /></p><p>Taste one. These last berries are the sweetest.</p><p>That's how I know they are mine. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-66017538178764942532022-09-03T12:44:00.002-07:002022-09-03T12:44:59.961-07:00Why We Make Love After a Funeral: What to Do With Who We Are after COVID-19<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRBrVdxxPHcUOgF7DcWaxuUoa0uimen55l7-Q&usqp=CAU" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRBrVdxxPHcUOgF7DcWaxuUoa0uimen55l7-Q&usqp=CAU" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Image credit: Adobe stock</span></div><br /> We live in times unlike even those of us who wear many years have ever known. These last days, we find, take a grim toll on body and spirit. Many died, and many more walk wounded, broken by illness or dread, as though having abandoned hope of ever again living in peace.<p></p><p>We recognize the worst of sufferers by their resolute faces turned toward chaos because there is nowhere else to go. This chaos, the like of which we have never seen before in either scope or magnitude. This chaos, from which we can see little relief or solution ahead. It's a dismal landscape to wander and we feel every sad step of it. This is our post-pandemic world of shared grief, one which will never brag a declaration of victory. We will not have won, but we can survive. </p><p><b>We Need a Funeral</b></p><p>Deaths are all like that, of course - endings and darkness, and the pains that come with them. What we need is a funeral. We need to lay these sorrows to rest and raise a headstone over them - "Here lies the COVID-19 pandemic. It killed something carefree in us all, but we survived its deceitful malice. We survived." And then, once we have done thrown exultant handfuls of dirt into the grave, raise a toast.</p><p>We need do away with dread and panic. Every death leaves survivors wondering how to find a new firm place to stand. It's how surviving is done, and it is always done while grieving. </p><p>Actually, we already know exactly how, having gone to enough funerals during our long years of life to recognize them through song and rhythm, smell and flavor. We know how to preside over the coffin lid's close, over the scattering of ashes. We know how to walk away from the grave and lift faces toward a world still alive.</p><p>That's why we make love after a funeral. The love gives loud voice and firm action to the life that remains. It declares that no amount of death can defeat whatever life still holds for the breathing.</p><p><b>And When the Funeral is Over</b></p><p>We will never run out of threatening sorrows. Misfortune constantly lurks, but graveyards do not make nourishing homes. No one residing there thrives. We, the living, bear no fault for turning our backs to the tombs, even as we remember them.</p><p>There is no going back. What we've lost is gone forever, but if funerals perform any service at all, they let us leave sorrow and memory where they belong - behind us. They let us remember our living humanity, fully expecting to grin and grow again.</p><p>COVID-19 cannot dismantle our humanity unless we let it, unless we make our beds among the dead. If we breathe, we are meant to live, and so rediscover common ground and the joy of rebuilding. Look somebody full in the eye today. They are hurting, too. </p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-20089438367822711452022-08-27T15:14:00.002-07:002022-08-27T15:14:44.838-07:00Jackson Harbor, August 26<p> </p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He said last night that every morning, just after dawn, commercial
fishermen returned to the harbor here, unloading their catch. Here,
where the sun first crests the island’s horizon.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WiYl_FjTgdIYk0TPB2iJwmI4B9bc1K0XW7n9p1QiCWLCAO9EvXS1i-LqZKVm25XQwAGp-7ZtE2ie9sosbLxpSnNqk8im2K3FaWXOVaNuZwPSeI7ZjYFx6-P7rO0BQPB2xvwyHN3kj_c6fL260OhH4cSOjYRkQ2sv7Ha6bUBf1ychnV_WMxXHPk_-/s4000/20220826_060630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WiYl_FjTgdIYk0TPB2iJwmI4B9bc1K0XW7n9p1QiCWLCAO9EvXS1i-LqZKVm25XQwAGp-7ZtE2ie9sosbLxpSnNqk8im2K3FaWXOVaNuZwPSeI7ZjYFx6-P7rO0BQPB2xvwyHN3kj_c6fL260OhH4cSOjYRkQ2sv7Ha6bUBf1ychnV_WMxXHPk_-/s320/20220826_060630.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">This is Homer’s
rose-red dawn whose fingers gather pink ribbons followed by shining
gold streaks. These fingers, however, do not caress. They are not
gentle. Instead, a chill, stiff breeze blows surrounding trees so
that they rush with it. All around, every surface is sodden with dew.
Cranes arch graceful necks in the shallows, then gather and fly
overhead like black arrows sent to battle. Jets leave distant, silent
trails.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBtgp4mfCAaQBUcuGFMk36Pvv7Bp9QcZjbEqNhkkrtmaYgR4UwC3A3dT6YpOsblHAnkA5Sr_IUHnKh5Mq7DWuhvHyUVpsVkAw8lpEb9tVXjZOiEUqWfzCIGKcG-MlUkLeEPiKQ9z4F14LnmLkO9AuFR3g_VnaFmlKJa82UxR-c_0eb5-4tVhqyreD/s4000/20220826_065549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBtgp4mfCAaQBUcuGFMk36Pvv7Bp9QcZjbEqNhkkrtmaYgR4UwC3A3dT6YpOsblHAnkA5Sr_IUHnKh5Mq7DWuhvHyUVpsVkAw8lpEb9tVXjZOiEUqWfzCIGKcG-MlUkLeEPiKQ9z4F14LnmLkO9AuFR3g_VnaFmlKJa82UxR-c_0eb5-4tVhqyreD/s320/20220826_065549.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">One car drives past.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">A man walks straight
and solitary on the next dock.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The sun has cleared
the treetops and casts lines of fire across the water, moving so
slowly as to look stationary, but constant enough to leave the
horizon increasingly behind.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The earth still
turns, this sun declares, full of glory every day, never hiding
behind half moons or crescents. This sun has ever been the Lord of
Days, but merciful. A gull calls, flies through its halo, and is
not burned.
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWyBcEPg1E6PdyK27Nip9VB9TO0lYmFFVP7i-ya7GXfPBLVRpSpx7asXWvclNNNA1Pn_DNNZFB6FpGlcx2c1uSAt9rwM4AKwdrnAjAIuFbez0g0mAKYd9TpbnPfnNBOOO6GJ3NUhVDAh0sfGfV_YJ4ukWEMkQGdoohVLSgTEcWbDXkdoji51cqK0Z/s4000/20220826_060710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWyBcEPg1E6PdyK27Nip9VB9TO0lYmFFVP7i-ya7GXfPBLVRpSpx7asXWvclNNNA1Pn_DNNZFB6FpGlcx2c1uSAt9rwM4AKwdrnAjAIuFbez0g0mAKYd9TpbnPfnNBOOO6GJ3NUhVDAh0sfGfV_YJ4ukWEMkQGdoohVLSgTEcWbDXkdoji51cqK0Z/s320/20220826_060710.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Waves break and
froth against a single buoy.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Two fisherman carry
coffee and bait in indiscernible white cups, set up chairs next to
the dock, and cast hushed lines.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpDlEHJc-KYYe3zVw53LviQD8J3Wv8gcvbaGl2zyLFWybcLh4fWLUWsXdPYg8vZ2dVzHkRMqFCxldgEQkS9Agt8TsXjj8YL8DaqWYzFFoWoQCXeZ5ZUkwXUFLuQxYFXyASFUVZJdF8D01aVr2KUcYjQ4YxSmwjNBlOvFfOlaIA0TkgRzB3nDwW58f/s4000/20220826_063639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpDlEHJc-KYYe3zVw53LviQD8J3Wv8gcvbaGl2zyLFWybcLh4fWLUWsXdPYg8vZ2dVzHkRMqFCxldgEQkS9Agt8TsXjj8YL8DaqWYzFFoWoQCXeZ5ZUkwXUFLuQxYFXyASFUVZJdF8D01aVr2KUcYjQ4YxSmwjNBlOvFfOlaIA0TkgRzB3nDwW58f/s320/20220826_063639.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Just down the coast,
land narrows to a single rocky point. There is no sand here, only
rocks rounded by waves more ambitious than today’s. The lake is
loud in this place, wave after wave turning turning themselves over
in silver sheen and foam. The bay undulates like a dark serpent
playing in new sunshine.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyLQbq_wWPj1ZrOYyQsz-E7km00P7qqCLj1VqK8p6PTMCFgdH-npuSAMmBIhAJaRPV1Bz4BPk7jeIpo-DjhyA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">There will be no
returning fishing boats today, but rolling waters still rock on the
cradle of the earth. The sun still crested the edge of the earth
right on time. We are given another day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtpbGqB-7OOn_-8_kKixg0lCIWbqi3slILLkJy63ampA4DMrNexveH3TovR0sdvfUTIT2aoeWV5NZJ0r3SVHyi6FZg2cjJBseqllAEXracPbbWmwvoFjS6_htiyhLTs5HfXhT9M2WenokzOiojJ4Q7JSHcLTcWBwT4m0I-M-I6lj4Sh5DImCt0Rul/s4000/20220826_061927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtpbGqB-7OOn_-8_kKixg0lCIWbqi3slILLkJy63ampA4DMrNexveH3TovR0sdvfUTIT2aoeWV5NZJ0r3SVHyi6FZg2cjJBseqllAEXracPbbWmwvoFjS6_htiyhLTs5HfXhT9M2WenokzOiojJ4Q7JSHcLTcWBwT4m0I-M-I6lj4Sh5DImCt0Rul/s320/20220826_061927.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-79390083380944197632022-08-02T18:17:00.001-07:002022-09-03T13:05:41.953-07:00Revelation<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJGHtdBJkvyf20iXkm2UR8b4lWfqLqzsTrJKCdVuT3uNsjta99riQPYrtTkggtgpuRfNT-OwZ-7GC2jaQZOUmBCH0RLSIhePDQYkIBKvjzW0D6lxGhXILfv1bzi_s6o4hZ3pxzhKl9dSy7QYwj_9bN6TjmFIO1zeIEU855e9JH0_zNSJHZDO7fePGY/s1280/autumn%20strawberries.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="605" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJGHtdBJkvyf20iXkm2UR8b4lWfqLqzsTrJKCdVuT3uNsjta99riQPYrtTkggtgpuRfNT-OwZ-7GC2jaQZOUmBCH0RLSIhePDQYkIBKvjzW0D6lxGhXILfv1bzi_s6o4hZ3pxzhKl9dSy7QYwj_9bN6TjmFIO1zeIEU855e9JH0_zNSJHZDO7fePGY/s320/autumn%20strawberries.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><br /><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The world is a
whirling place -
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Spinning in
dizzying, constant motion,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">masking with
benevolent deceit its gesturing,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">attempting to
convince with thin perception,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">firm feet floating
and clear giddy heads.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">But it doesn’t
always work.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The world cannot
help but reveal itself.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">It’s the movement,
of course.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The coils of a wave,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">a dissipation of
shadow,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">the reeling of
stars,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">give it away.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Reflection reminds
me that 50,000 tides have drawn themselves in and out,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">and half as many
risings and settings have defined the days of life.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Eight hundred moons
have waxed and waned,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">and blood flowed
through half those to mark the promise of life,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">fruit both born and
unborn.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Yet, even after all
of these,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">all the rhythms of
this living,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">this one heart still
fills the world with insistent percussion.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Each day brings its
own new-born light,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">announcing itself as
though the first ever made,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">ignoring that
millions like it have already gone before</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">and that I, myself,
have witnessed so many of them.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">It doesn’t matter,
you see.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The turning is
relentless.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">A million, a
thousand, or the first,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">they have every one,
acknowledged or not,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">brought renewed
miracle to the world.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Breath, brilliance;</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Power, promise;
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">converge and
distill,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">unable to deny their
source.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">They are all the
time close,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">as a soft breeze
stroking with welcome, familiar hands.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">This world,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">this grace-filled,
specific, intentional gift,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">opens full-face
every new morning,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">and all one needs to
know it is to raise astonished eyes,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">recognizing Joy.</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-44595848721231747312022-05-31T07:09:00.000-07:002022-05-31T07:09:58.580-07:00Park Street at Dawn<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIaIMPYmiauZatr6dPfcJNgPxM3c3mNLSg1PsdZKlwAvSIc67MeaT3qo2Idu6Iwhia4dKCzQ59-EFoLutCM1-I3PnJ731EHLsp9rGV8m2iCAOF074jsxrcuNozIOnQnWq-invfJog6mgBIDbEdDZD6XkFDSe6CRBi_wy2kpGq_-pG-018PJEVDFII/s1280/park%20street%20grimes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIaIMPYmiauZatr6dPfcJNgPxM3c3mNLSg1PsdZKlwAvSIc67MeaT3qo2Idu6Iwhia4dKCzQ59-EFoLutCM1-I3PnJ731EHLsp9rGV8m2iCAOF074jsxrcuNozIOnQnWq-invfJog6mgBIDbEdDZD6XkFDSe6CRBi_wy2kpGq_-pG-018PJEVDFII/s320/park%20street%20grimes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Cool gray.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Clean white.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Muffled, covert
blue.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Safe and spare, the
house resists heartbreaking human heat, the demands of purple flesh
and red blood.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Ice house, clean and
clear.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">It cannot long hold
sway.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Even now, life’s
inevitable chaos rises and memories begin to gather in corners.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Flowers poke through
between stones.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">New books settle on
shelves, bringing wild, dangerous thoughts.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Sheets of dancing
notes people the piano rack, threatening music.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">We all do it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Hoard the calm, grab
up the quiet.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Pull in the
drawbridge and pretend that peace is a natural state.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">But you see, no
saving can come where nothing is out of place.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The narrow way is
only a choice when surrounded by unpredictability—orange points of
pain—black chasms.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">But they have not
come yet.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">For now, this cool
fortress remains, still alive in the slow breaths of hypothermia,
holding on, hoping.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">We will understand
its stranglehold before it’s too late.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">God always burns
hotter than we bargain.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Even now, the mist
evaporates and the drawbridge begins to shudder.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">He comes for us.
</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-9486227050379537022022-04-10T12:05:00.001-07:002022-04-10T12:07:03.361-07:00Palm Sunday<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5P69kw-3t6iz3hkPT1viGdscDLWwcDa3O4xOQXihRftQKxIKt6-THtaF3KamKcUUDx2z6m-vIV6YI2lcwuAayxINiCkv4nGPyw0R-jhnqbx9cwUrQ8yLSJbz550c-Du2kkVjM356wpfvaJx0u1wUjMT312K5VUIN6CuacVYKXc67h_kcdKu-lm4Jy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="127" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5P69kw-3t6iz3hkPT1viGdscDLWwcDa3O4xOQXihRftQKxIKt6-THtaF3KamKcUUDx2z6m-vIV6YI2lcwuAayxINiCkv4nGPyw0R-jhnqbx9cwUrQ8yLSJbz550c-Du2kkVjM356wpfvaJx0u1wUjMT312K5VUIN6CuacVYKXc67h_kcdKu-lm4Jy" width="77" /></a></div><p></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Much less a cloaked, handpicked
donkey on a dusty road.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">In
two weeks, the leaves will dry to cracking, tucked behind a picture
frame.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Palm
Sunday.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Prim.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Spare.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Measured.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Where
is the crowd?</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Where
the sweaty exultation?</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Let
Him enter the ancient doors,</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The
King of Glory!</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Shout
for joy, daughters of Jerusalem!</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Instead,
this rote crowd shuffles, trudges,</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Singing
in polite unison,</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Missing
the slow burn,</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The
threat of pregnant glory already poised at the temple veil.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Who
is this King of Glory?</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">He
is the Lord of Hosts!</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Silly
palms.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Too
little then.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Too
little now.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-21565285100812508722022-03-15T06:16:00.000-07:002022-03-15T06:16:30.799-07:00Praying the Mass<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlTILPP3gnFuk2Qi0XOw7hHAwY8g-hHQVdgK0oxKXB4MQ9Xe6YCYcwwgmFJ7m2XNURrZOnLqPrfmkIz-EdjlPFeinbNCeUrWtRA8gPbbi72zMwZ1yel4TeKa-hL2p6D7Wk6qqu-9quKQZImQ2EJDBMV6YY4hsQw3fa557YHUPgFuQTNJwoP3ebGiuL=s5312" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5312" data-original-width="2988" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlTILPP3gnFuk2Qi0XOw7hHAwY8g-hHQVdgK0oxKXB4MQ9Xe6YCYcwwgmFJ7m2XNURrZOnLqPrfmkIz-EdjlPFeinbNCeUrWtRA8gPbbi72zMwZ1yel4TeKa-hL2p6D7Wk6qqu-9quKQZImQ2EJDBMV6YY4hsQw3fa557YHUPgFuQTNJwoP3ebGiuL=s320" width="180" /></a></div><p>Preserve my life and keep me from harm, not only so that I may enjoy it, but so that I may bear witness to your Godhead.</p><p>Teach me your good that I may do it, not to be a good human, but to be an obedient child looking always to you for wisdom.</p><p>Forgive my sins and make me white as snow, not only to save me, but to reveal what you have deposited in me for your glory.</p><p>Accept my sacrifices, not because they are worthy, but because they are all I have.</p><p>Hear my prayers, not because they are beautiful, but because words re the only way I know to describe my love.</p><p>Give me a new heart and a new spirit, not only because I need them, but so that I may use them in your service in this life and lay them at your feet in the next.</p><p>Have mercy on your church, not for its victories, but for its failures--in vain leadership, in hard-hearted exclusion, in sure, self-centered righteousness. Help the church you commissioned mold itself to your intent.</p><p>Help us be content with humility, but not satisfied with partial holiness.</p><p>Help us to face and repent of sin, but not assume sanctification outside of your specific influence.</p><p>May we always be refreshed at your table, but not forget that not only are all invited, all too are children in your sight.</p><p>I hide, safe in the shadow of your wing, at the same time warm in your shared glory.</p><p>You are greater than my heart.</p><p><br /></p>Credit: Donatello's Mary Magdalen, Opera Museum, Florence, Italy<br /> <p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-25653458784403207432022-03-10T04:17:00.000-08:002022-03-10T04:17:43.065-08:00Elizabeth<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAqh9vQmDMEAyVSgpSVO6cxsLRpMdQMEEo51RFb3uZ2-hgEMBMrqx5VOzFZALYm84N4TUogMEBSfORF1_9Vw1G8Y2kLmBQTc-DqzGaFgPyfT1Zqn5SSS6_RLuvQB8xLGM6do29FwRXW29OFlujwPs_WTxRzqdx37_-dNsFD2dxl4OpOg4yEdEBNLxb=s1375" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1375" data-original-width="963" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAqh9vQmDMEAyVSgpSVO6cxsLRpMdQMEEo51RFb3uZ2-hgEMBMrqx5VOzFZALYm84N4TUogMEBSfORF1_9Vw1G8Y2kLmBQTc-DqzGaFgPyfT1Zqn5SSS6_RLuvQB8xLGM6do29FwRXW29OFlujwPs_WTxRzqdx37_-dNsFD2dxl4OpOg4yEdEBNLxb=s320" width="224" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
No one ever reminds us you’d gotten old.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The paintings are
too kind--</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">they’ve smoothed
your skin,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">covered your silver
hair,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">draped or forgotten
your knobby bones and age spots.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">I know how you felt.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Not only the erratic
weariness and morning aches,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">but the unbidden
pants,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">the huddling, cold
shiver,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">the squinting, the
pause before each stair.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Small things, each
of them,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">not debilitating,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">only ungentle
reminders of what time had done.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Add them all to a
great, tussling belly.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Urgent, with a job
to do.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Bursting to begin.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">While your own flesh
all too often remembers its own job is nearly done.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Yes, the paintings
are kind.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">They ignore it all,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">looking at you both
with Mary’s eyes, with God’s,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">and revel only in
your exultation.</p><br /><p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-52762129148579150952022-03-01T05:49:00.000-08:002022-03-01T05:49:01.152-08:00Bradford Beach, February 28<p> </p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEge3NmqsOpkC0hb3-eqKx0Zrs-Re6NdB8VbrYh57D4tWdpSXuw6G04E1zAJFEjeAGYd4M5gfT1QT9gkg_03B6uoEfbMY1QKBpKnpVtVsh3fkI6FBCdXu673y_uMaHIIeBG9YPE8v7Igmx5Jh5JGcp_fOqme6SeNUBFYlh8wPzikZXSOOEDai4XTDT4B" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEge3NmqsOpkC0hb3-eqKx0Zrs-Re6NdB8VbrYh57D4tWdpSXuw6G04E1zAJFEjeAGYd4M5gfT1QT9gkg_03B6uoEfbMY1QKBpKnpVtVsh3fkI6FBCdXu673y_uMaHIIeBG9YPE8v7Igmx5Jh5JGcp_fOqme6SeNUBFYlh8wPzikZXSOOEDai4XTDT4B" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijx2jvndbV9xy8ou5atnBZ3vu8Sfvd_1wVfKL-sLL15agYqv8zTt_rwEmf0DfX5TLQaI1ThMWEsXvSMPC2lmyX4M8sj0W82K5ogeRjYX_etuHpfmgkIkaG8MwjBmLQ4JP-0a9kT5l8WJZPjr8-fQutZdryv6UKBhBmxI6lMULx_Qawa0qx6bUub6dT" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="316" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijx2jvndbV9xy8ou5atnBZ3vu8Sfvd_1wVfKL-sLL15agYqv8zTt_rwEmf0DfX5TLQaI1ThMWEsXvSMPC2lmyX4M8sj0W82K5ogeRjYX_etuHpfmgkIkaG8MwjBmLQ4JP-0a9kT5l8WJZPjr8-fQutZdryv6UKBhBmxI6lMULx_Qawa0qx6bUub6dT" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The clouds draw back
and steel-white yields to new gold.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Sand that had
solidified into rough concrete starts to crumble back into grains.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Waves form mounting
regiments as far out as the horizon and advance.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Suggestions of blue
wash below their white foam</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">And curl onto the
beach, disintegrating over hills of gleaming ice they made of their
own muted thunder through long, cold months.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">New wind blows them
in, one that today promises hot sand leaking up radiant between
grateful toes</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> and cool, welcome
water on bare, grateful legs.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><img alt="" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEge3NmqsOpkC0hb3-eqKx0Zrs-Re6NdB8VbrYh57D4tWdpSXuw6G04E1zAJFEjeAGYd4M5gfT1QT9gkg_03B6uoEfbMY1QKBpKnpVtVsh3fkI6FBCdXu673y_uMaHIIeBG9YPE8v7Igmx5Jh5JGcp_fOqme6SeNUBFYlh8wPzikZXSOOEDai4XTDT4B" width="240" /><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Today, visitors pull
parkas tight against wind that still carries winter’s learned
chill,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">But the big lake is
never quiet.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">It won’t hide its
constant churn the way smaller ones do,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The way even rivers
ice over, acquiescing to winter’s dominion.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Yes, Persephone
weeps below and the earth mourns, temporarily subdued, life and
motion stolen, but not here.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Here defiant water
still moves,
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Resisting winter’s
seasonal death,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Resilient.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Leading the way to
renewal.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Already still-cold
water begins to wash away the frozen mounds of its own making.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">The earth’s arc
veers again back toward the sun.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">I stand and watch,
not moving, but flying through space,</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Remembering that
even a long winter can’t stop this dance.
</p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidP4vmLvsK1qrK5tWMgsg2PhfhVe-HAWpPJrRt7yTkvXqBP5yGqQTMQuDoTbk92GA-2daLbQCZ_yNBAEJvcNNzRWnnLLOOg9KVDWBim9YVjRFiAssKy0Hj2rkfukwZf5clWuBt1LvT_9pQz_efhe-qbMAKBOvrs-yqUSYLgFC-QnHus2biaRtqyDGv" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="252" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidP4vmLvsK1qrK5tWMgsg2PhfhVe-HAWpPJrRt7yTkvXqBP5yGqQTMQuDoTbk92GA-2daLbQCZ_yNBAEJvcNNzRWnnLLOOg9KVDWBim9YVjRFiAssKy0Hj2rkfukwZf5clWuBt1LvT_9pQz_efhe-qbMAKBOvrs-yqUSYLgFC-QnHus2biaRtqyDGv" width="302" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2162883238388829088.post-26623905675727988742022-02-22T08:02:00.001-08:002022-02-22T08:54:47.462-08:00Escape from Mark Zuckerberg<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjjQCXYvK7Vs2B-Wz5CFYh1D9ROxwvhdEskiQp9YyrV6TpjJ-FXXh2jeeooPds_bmN5kFdgxkH3WUqqyYN3I74IuDnrQoar_KnIVbdUPDL5NGL8vxZmji_olh7PO6eRGNjMwrbnFa9LXjB-6ozBG1VmijWhrUw9Xs4nhcizSHmrkvMchIADufElCeQ=s2071" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1112" data-original-width="2071" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjjQCXYvK7Vs2B-Wz5CFYh1D9ROxwvhdEskiQp9YyrV6TpjJ-FXXh2jeeooPds_bmN5kFdgxkH3WUqqyYN3I74IuDnrQoar_KnIVbdUPDL5NGL8vxZmji_olh7PO6eRGNjMwrbnFa9LXjB-6ozBG1VmijWhrUw9Xs4nhcizSHmrkvMchIADufElCeQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Plato was a pretty smart guy. <p></p><p>Most people know that, of course, but most of us don't think often about what he had to say and what it might mean for us 2500 years later. For anybody who has any inclination to make sense of life and the world, Plato has always been one of the places to begin, after all, and his principles of life's essence, his Forms, have plenty to chew on. But Plato liked to tell stories, too, and one of his most well known is his Cave Allegory.</p><p>I've included a picture to help you visualize it, and *SPOILER ALERT* also stole the contemporary twist from my Philosophy professor, Agust Magnusson, but it was so good I had to share it. Thank you, sir.</p><p>So here's the basic tale: there are these people who have lived in a cave all of their lives and they're chained in there so all they can see is the back wall. Behind them is a big fire and also somebody standing in front of it holding up a bunch of shapes that mimic stuff in the world-birds, animals, that kind of stuff. So what do the chained people see? Shadows. Now, they're shadows of stuff that's real, but they don't know that because they've never seen anything real, only the shadows. And they like them. They're amusing, even beautiful in their way. And, as long as the shadows are around, the cave dwellers are pretty happy. </p><p>But one day, somebody escapes the cave and gets out in the real world. "Whoa," he thinks. "There's a lot of stuff out here--things not only to see, but to feel and taste and hear, too. This world is way cooler than we thought." Now the story doesn't say this, but maybe this guy brings back something to show his friends. Maybe he brings back a rose. And he tells them about the world. And he gives them the rose. But they don't much like it. The rose is too fragile and too dirty and -ouch!- it has thorns. They throw it back at him and turn back to their shadows, content and safe. </p><p>Our escapee turns to face the people holding the shadow shapes that keep his friends amused. He can't figure it out. What's wrong with these people? But the shape holders just smile. They know. Our escapee flees the cave for the last time to encounter the real world, and all the beauty and ugliness it presents and eventually, probably gets eaten or something, but at least he's exulted in the meantime. He's lived.</p><p>So the escapee dies, but the cave dwellers are still alive. Kind of. Yeah, you say, I saw the Matrix too. What's the big deal? Take a look at the picture again. Doesn't it look like a movie theater? Or your gaming setup? Or the place you binge watch 100 episodes of <i>The Office? </i>And who the heck is that holding the light? Are those mouse ears on his head? Is he wearing a tee-shirt with a lower case 'f'? </p><p>Come on. You know who he is. He's anybody who's invested in keeping your head from turning to look around, who creates a world where you lose yourself, one you can't figure out whether you love or hate. It's anybody who sucks you in, steals the irreplaceable moments of your life, and substitutes what's important to them to keep you from thinking about what's important to you. It's Netflix. The NFL. It's Mark (blanketyblank) Zuckerberg. (Humph) Meta. It's only another word for fake. </p><p>I deleted Facebook from my phone a month ago and everybody's been asking me whether I've had any withdrawal. Nope. Not a moment. All I feel is free. Tired of shadows, I'm out of the cave and in danger, but oh, man, it feels good. </p><p>photo credit: reddit.com</p>JoAnne Potterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736685999963791015noreply@blogger.com0