There are other things happening in my life right now that didn't really fit into the previous post. I've been reminded again about the soul's need for silence, solitude, and stillness. I recently finished reading, "The Signature of Jesus" by Brennan Manning, and it sparked afresh my desire to know Jesus. Not know about him. Not possess some derivative, second-hand knowledge of him. To know and to experience him.
With that hope, I've taken new approaches to prayer. I've committed with my mentor to take a silence and solitude retreat in the fall. And then today I read this poem, and I loved it and thought I'd pass it on.
"When I'm alone--" the words tripped off his tongue
as though to be alone were nothing strange
"When I was young," he said; "When I was young..."
I thought of age, and loneliness, and change
I thought how strange we grow when we're alone,
and how unlike the selves that meet and talk,
and blow the candles out, and say goodnight.
Alone...the word is life endured and known,
It is the stillness where our spirits walk
and all but inmost faith is overthrown.
(Siegfried Sasson)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Seattle, TX
I love the rain. That may be a bit unusual, but that is probably part of the reason why I appreciate it so. The "rain walk" is one of my most cherished events of the year. Often, it will rain when we are occupied in some other task: at work, driving, going to the store, etc. But every once in a while, it will rain steadily, continuously; and when this happens, I like to grab the dog, put on some clothes that I don't mind getting wet, and head out into the rain. It has been raining for three days straight here in Texas, and so this weekend I was able to take two rains walks, much to the well-being of my soul.
These walks started back when I was in junior high, at least. I remember wandering in the woods surrounding the Black Fork River, just behind our house in Shelby. The rain hushes things--lets you forget all the other thoughts and worries, and just appreciate wooded stillness and the "quiet" of drumming rainfall. That is a special gift for a kid trying to deal with growing up, and I remember with fondness those days.
Then there was a time in college, when Mickie Krish, Katie Fowler, Leah (man...I've forgotten her last name) and I all went running around Chicago in the rain. I can still picture the sight from atop the bridge spanning the Chicago River, next to the Wrigley Building. With all the lights pointed up at the ediface, you could see the rain streaking down from the sky.
Later, in Minnesota, while Aydan slept in his crib, my young bride and I went splashing through the puddles on the lawn of our apartment complex. We soaked in the water and the joy of being together.
Just a few years ago, the boys and I thrilled at the rising level of Bear Creek, and we laid down in the trenches of water that filled low spots on the grassy hills of the park. We wandered wherever flowing water would take us. We laughed and explored, and dried out with hot chocolate in the end.
There have been less happy rain walks. Times of sorrow and lament. Times of questioning and fear. Even these, however, remain fondly in my memory. They are ghosts of what could have been, but never were. They are heartache endured...and overcome.
So when the rain held on through Friday evening, through all my errands on Saturday, and showed no signs of slowing last night, Lulu and I crossed to the park and began another rain walk. When it continued to rain this morning, the boys, the dog and I set off again. They found a turtle lounging in a puddle on the lawn next to the pond, and had a great time holding it, and then watching it get away. We crossed raging waters and jumped in puddles. It was another good walk.
Surrounding this experience, I have watched movies and trailers who remind me that it is a very special thing to raise boys. How can I help them stay wild and free and live their childhood with even moment of raucous, care-free fun possible? How can I teach them wisdom, self-control and respect, so that when the day comes for them to be men they are ready? How can I be patient with them, say "yes" to their harmless (and even potentially harmful) requests, affirm them and give them room to experience, to try (and to fail)? How can I tell them "no" and help them understand that certain loads are too much for their young bodies and souls to carry?
I've enjoyed watching "Second Hand Lions" and look forward to seeing "The Boys are Back" and "Where the Wild Things Are." But moreso, I've enjoyed spending time with my sons. I only hope that a good rain walk sticks in their mind, like I know it has done in mine, and that as they grow it will prove to be one piece in answering all those very difficult and sobering questions. I hope that I am equal to the task of helping them to become men. Seeing that become a reality is what I look forward to most of all.
These walks started back when I was in junior high, at least. I remember wandering in the woods surrounding the Black Fork River, just behind our house in Shelby. The rain hushes things--lets you forget all the other thoughts and worries, and just appreciate wooded stillness and the "quiet" of drumming rainfall. That is a special gift for a kid trying to deal with growing up, and I remember with fondness those days.
Then there was a time in college, when Mickie Krish, Katie Fowler, Leah (man...I've forgotten her last name) and I all went running around Chicago in the rain. I can still picture the sight from atop the bridge spanning the Chicago River, next to the Wrigley Building. With all the lights pointed up at the ediface, you could see the rain streaking down from the sky.
Later, in Minnesota, while Aydan slept in his crib, my young bride and I went splashing through the puddles on the lawn of our apartment complex. We soaked in the water and the joy of being together.
Just a few years ago, the boys and I thrilled at the rising level of Bear Creek, and we laid down in the trenches of water that filled low spots on the grassy hills of the park. We wandered wherever flowing water would take us. We laughed and explored, and dried out with hot chocolate in the end.
There have been less happy rain walks. Times of sorrow and lament. Times of questioning and fear. Even these, however, remain fondly in my memory. They are ghosts of what could have been, but never were. They are heartache endured...and overcome.
So when the rain held on through Friday evening, through all my errands on Saturday, and showed no signs of slowing last night, Lulu and I crossed to the park and began another rain walk. When it continued to rain this morning, the boys, the dog and I set off again. They found a turtle lounging in a puddle on the lawn next to the pond, and had a great time holding it, and then watching it get away. We crossed raging waters and jumped in puddles. It was another good walk.
Surrounding this experience, I have watched movies and trailers who remind me that it is a very special thing to raise boys. How can I help them stay wild and free and live their childhood with even moment of raucous, care-free fun possible? How can I teach them wisdom, self-control and respect, so that when the day comes for them to be men they are ready? How can I be patient with them, say "yes" to their harmless (and even potentially harmful) requests, affirm them and give them room to experience, to try (and to fail)? How can I tell them "no" and help them understand that certain loads are too much for their young bodies and souls to carry?
I've enjoyed watching "Second Hand Lions" and look forward to seeing "The Boys are Back" and "Where the Wild Things Are." But moreso, I've enjoyed spending time with my sons. I only hope that a good rain walk sticks in their mind, like I know it has done in mine, and that as they grow it will prove to be one piece in answering all those very difficult and sobering questions. I hope that I am equal to the task of helping them to become men. Seeing that become a reality is what I look forward to most of all.
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