Interruptions. Changing of plans. We rarely look for those things, but if you know anything about river adventures, you know that a portage is often unavoidable. What do you do when you find a proverbial canoe on your shoulders, instead of in the water where it belongs?
Keep walking, carry a good compass, bring a friend along to help with the load.
These are things easier said than done. When your legs ache, when you’re tired and it’s dark and you can’t read your compass, when you and your partner find verbal combat easier than carrying a canoe… In the middle of at a portage doesn’t always seem like an adventure, but that’s life. We don’t always recognise the adventures we are on when we are standing in the middle of them.
Perspective. This is my reminder to remember and check my perspective.
Spring, a time many of us long for after a long dark winter. We grow again and unfurl our blooms… Just to have a frost crisp their edges.
Some of us weather it fine, some of us might carry blackened scars from unexpected transitions. Still, some of us might have to drop our first blooms. But don’t worry, you will grow new ones. Whispers of what once was, and promises of what will still be.
It usually surprises people when I tell them, “I do not care for the Christmas season.” “Arn’t Christians supposed to love Christmas?”
I guess most of them do, but I can’t help but feel an emptiness behind the brightly covered packages and glitz this world throws around during the holiday season. Expectations are high, but things never seem to pan out the way I mean them to. So why write about this now that the Holidays are over, and becoming a memory?
Because the light of Christmas is not supposed to stay locked into a few weeks of the year. The person of Jesus Christ grew and walked away from the manger, taking his flame of light to the very valley of death.
So today I choose to remind myself that though a modern Christmas leaves me empty, and ancient Christ fills me with light.
Look beyond how culture paints things to deep roots.
It’s many faceted and affects different people in different ways. But truth is truth.
We can disguise it, ignore it, or bury it, but still it is what it is at its core. It can not cease to be.
From the beginning of time, the human tongue has had a problem with truth. It’s the only thing in creation I know of that regularly spews out lies and truth at the same time.
It’s a tragedy of our human existence that we so often muddy those waters…
But our ability to do so speaks volumes. We are able to choose. We are able to change. We are able to learn better.
My prayer is that we would no longer be afraid of truth, and avidly seek it in everything. From who really put the empty milk carton back in to the fridge, to the truths about what is happening in the world at large. May truth always teach and become clear. Amen.
I heard someone say once, “Every moment is a story.” Do you believe that?
Could each moment that passes be a story unto itself, with a beginning, middle, and end? Could each single one have a hidden meaning all its own?
Just like each stitch in a embroidered tapestry is a stick unto itself, complete and whole. So is each of our moments. Whether you call them stories are not, that are precious. Look at them closely and you will see intricate beauty. Step back and view the moments held together, and they are magnificent.
Earth is home to many cycles. The water cycle, the air cycle, the earth cycle are among them. Systemes created to build, break down, reuse, and rebuild.
All of that grinding, melting, molding, fusing, is science’s magic of making one thing into another. While it all follows a pattern, it all looks like chaos. Such is life. Trust the pattern. I trust the one who invented that pattern.
The spending of time is not something we have a choice of. We all do it every moment of our breathing lives.
Like the count of seconds ticking away in a parking meter, we can not transfer them to another payment method once we have decided where to spend them.
But unlike a parking meter, time leaves us with bits and pieces we can sort through. Memories as lessons and discoveries. We could discard them, and lose bits of ourselves, or take those small pieces and repurpose them throughout our loves. Even the sharp, painfulness ones have a use.
Water is one of earth’s natural mirrors and puddles, the perfect place to start an adventure.
Do you view self reflection as an adventure? I would argue that you should.
Taking a good look at ourselves is scary. Is there something there we don’t want to acknowledge?
There are also many good things about ourselves we deny regularly. Self reflection doesn’t always have to be about our failings. Don’t be afraid to look in a mirror, or a puddle, to see the character that lines your face.