all the world is snow.
a canvas for anything:
even bravery.
Last night I was with some friends at a cozy listening party downtown, enjoying and giving feedback on the songs of a musician preparing to formulate his first album. I greatly admire those that translate their passion into their work and are unafraid to invite the world to look at, hold, judge their artistry put into tangible form. I am burdened often with the fear of the judgement. More than the scorn of strangers, I cringe at the thought of the disappointment of friends.
I was talking to my boss this morning about Karen's Memorial on Saturday, about the things we heard people say and do in these two days following. Things like "I want people to speak of me like that when I am gone." Things like "She was a modern-day hero of the faith." One couple even visited our church yesterday morning after having not been able to fit into the service because of the crowd, and knowing Karen only a little, feeling they could honor her by attending her church the following morning. So her love of Christ lives on although she is no longer with us, and we see evidence now that her life was meaningful, that she was a flame burning bright in a dark world. She is gone but the flame is not, and we must carry it on.
How does all of this come together? This is life. This is the time we've been given. Right now, right here, for a certain number of days. And how will we choose to spend it? These are the questions that haunt me and have haunted me for years, that I analyze over and over again and worry that I am not doing all I could, that I am not who I could be, that heaven forbid I am wasting time. Where is the balance between seizing every good opportunity and not being so busy and anxious as to cancel out the good with my superficiality; spreading myself too thin?
Clare said with hope a few weeks ago that "8 is the number of new beginnings." In 2008 I am longing for triumph, victory, newness, incredible joy. I want to be finished with despair, insecurity, overwhelming desire for the things of earth, selfishness, and shallowness. For too long I have been a little seed buried deep in the cold ground. It is time to reach up, to seek the sun, and bloom.
a canvas for anything:
even bravery.
Last night I was with some friends at a cozy listening party downtown, enjoying and giving feedback on the songs of a musician preparing to formulate his first album. I greatly admire those that translate their passion into their work and are unafraid to invite the world to look at, hold, judge their artistry put into tangible form. I am burdened often with the fear of the judgement. More than the scorn of strangers, I cringe at the thought of the disappointment of friends.
I was talking to my boss this morning about Karen's Memorial on Saturday, about the things we heard people say and do in these two days following. Things like "I want people to speak of me like that when I am gone." Things like "She was a modern-day hero of the faith." One couple even visited our church yesterday morning after having not been able to fit into the service because of the crowd, and knowing Karen only a little, feeling they could honor her by attending her church the following morning. So her love of Christ lives on although she is no longer with us, and we see evidence now that her life was meaningful, that she was a flame burning bright in a dark world. She is gone but the flame is not, and we must carry it on.
How does all of this come together? This is life. This is the time we've been given. Right now, right here, for a certain number of days. And how will we choose to spend it? These are the questions that haunt me and have haunted me for years, that I analyze over and over again and worry that I am not doing all I could, that I am not who I could be, that heaven forbid I am wasting time. Where is the balance between seizing every good opportunity and not being so busy and anxious as to cancel out the good with my superficiality; spreading myself too thin?
Clare said with hope a few weeks ago that "8 is the number of new beginnings." In 2008 I am longing for triumph, victory, newness, incredible joy. I want to be finished with despair, insecurity, overwhelming desire for the things of earth, selfishness, and shallowness. For too long I have been a little seed buried deep in the cold ground. It is time to reach up, to seek the sun, and bloom.
3 comments:
Beautiful. You brought tears to my eyes...she was a hero of the faith for me too.
tarena
how do you always seem to be at the same place as i am? or at least you seem to say all the things that i am feeling.
i pray that this new year will be full of new beginnings, putting away the old and looking forward to the new.
I cannot wait to watch you continue to grow and bloom and talk with you as we weather through each new adventure. Keep writing, my eyes were glued to the screen wanting more.
Hello 2008!
Post a Comment