Weaving Light

A moonbeam pierces the dark sky.  

A ray of sunshine illuminates the tepid earth, unfolding the resident glory that lay dormant.

Nights of darkness give way to days of light which opt to rest and come up again in resplendent and renewed radiance.

O, unseeing heart of stone, lay down to rest.  You will be awakened as a heart of flesh as the new day dawns.  Don’t be dismayed by the darkness that surrounds for it will soon give way to light and life and love. 

The fennel seeds fell into my hand; they have seen many mornings dawn, evenings fade, and dark nights keep watch.  They were not diminished by their shriveled form, their empty ventricles.  They lay in total peace, confident in the season that awaits.  Where all is quiet, buried in the deep, unseen, inactive, but being fed and replenished with rich, life-giving nutrients.

A tall, stalky skeleton guards the garden bed.  Waiting for the winter to then give way to spring.

Stop and see the seasons, don’t fret.


Becoming a constant

I remember the times when all was laughter and hopeful optimism.  It seemed then that nothing was impossible.  Here I am now, facing the giant of organic chemistry, my fearless hope put to the test.  This journey of being a pilgrim is so interesting, so unexpected.  I feel like I am in a constant chemical reaction, a constant state of ebb and flow and becoming.  Coming and going of electrons, bonds being broken only to be reformed, new and improved.  Then rearranged.  Nothing is constant in this process of transformation.  On some days, it seems as if life is this clearly defined, linear thing that then gives way, on other days, to a fluid, circular, interdimensional process of conversion.

What does it mean to be converted?  In certain circles, conversion is an event, but I think it is actually more like a daily process of the old nature realizing that it is so dead, and must therefore give way to a new, glorious nature that is recreated in the image of God.  What unfathomable truth to a calcitrant mind.  This is my constant, this is the product being created.  The constancy of Jesus Christ in me, He is my hope of glory, He is the author and the perfector of my faith.  He is the one who holds everything together, sustaining it all so perfectly.  I need not despair, though from my perspective it feels as if all is being undone, He is the master Chemist, and all is created, recreated, sustained, held together, reborn, renewed, loved, known, and real in Him.