Memorial day

A tribute to fallen soldiers, may have been based on a poem found in a hospital from World War II.

Listening

Almost a year now. I didn't think I would be in tears for almost 11 months, but I was. Longer than a pregnancy. Maybe that's aptly put, since it's given birth to a new life. A pastor I met had given a sermon about idolatry.  About pursuing health and wealth as idols, which had me pondering .. at what point do normal desires becomes idolatry, and then .. afterwards, thinking about the idolatry of fear as well. 

I had approached him afterwards, and had mentioned to him in the church –  “that  it was a difficult message to swallow. “ ..  I think I said something like “try telling that to someone who is sick” …and then later, after walking around the block and meditating on it for a bit, I went back. I had shared with him that .. “admittedly, I was a bit cynical about some of your message .. and yet my thoughts trouble me."

"Well, what woman would find a husband who is sick and broke a suitable marriage candidate?” - I remember asking him. It was refreshing, in that I could have a honest dialogue with a man that struck me as unassuming, and genuine. Not even 5 minutes later, after talking with him in the church - I met an elderly woman and struck up a conversation with her. She had beautiful blue gray eyes like my former love. At some point, I asked her how she met her husband. 

"He was sick in bed, in the hospital, and I was his nurse" - she says. Classic. Life’s big messages, in little moments.

Old familiar

Listening to some Patrick Watson and Cinematic Orchestra. No couch though.

Observed

Was reading "A Grief Observed" lately. C.S. Lewis .. immediately after the death of his wife Helen Joy from cancer. 

Lord, are these your real terms? Can I meet H. again only if I learn to love you so much that I don’t care whether I meet her again or not? When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of  ”No answer.”  It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, “Peace, child; you don’t understand.”

Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable. How many hours are there in a mile? Is yellow square or round? Probably half the questions we ask–half our great theological and metaphysical problems–are like that.

How far have I got? Just as far, I think, as a widower of another sort who would stop, leaning on his spade, and say in answer to the inquiry, 'Thank'ee. Mustn't grumble. I do miss her something dreadful. But they say these things are sent to try us.' We have come to the same point; he with his spade, and I, who am not now much good at digging, with my own instrument. But of course, one must take 'sent to try us' in the right way.