Archive for October, 2009


“I am tired, worn and thin. Like the Nothingness is coming after me. Like Bilbo when he said he felt like butter spread over too much toast. Like Luke feeling cold and afraid in the bog. Like Frodo sensing and dreading the power of the ring. Like Jean Grey when her powers were beyond her control…” the young woman said to her therapist.

But her therapist merely nodded his wrinkled green head and sighed, “Happens, this does, when live in every world except your own, you do.”

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Gray gets a bad rap.

We talk negatively about something being in a ‘gray area’, associate it with gloom and often use it in reference to something that is dull, dingy or dirty. We often treat it as a “nothingness” that has no form or substance or value. At my college we even lamented those forever “Indiana gray” days.

But gray is more than just some vague state between black and white. It is more than just the messiness made when a mime is removing his make-up.

Gray is a color.

It has substance and value and beauty of its own.

Gray is the misty fog that hangs low over the fields in late October, adding contrast and vibrancy to the autumn palette.

Gray is the deep rumbling power of early summer thunderstorms rolling vivaciously across the plains.

Gray is the quirkiness of squirrels, the warmth of huskies, the laughter of dolphins. It is the firmness of slate, the shine in silver, the strength of iron and the malleability of mercury.

Gray is the symbol of a full life, brimming with experiences and joys and tears and victories and regrets.

Gray is calm, cool and collected. It is austere and elegant, simple and profound. It is the casual comfort of a sweatshirt, the business class of a suit and the unexpected formalness of a gown.

Gray is special, too.

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Autumn Path

So last week someone mentioned me and poetry. And it’s been a long time (a long time indeed!) since I’ve written any. But today, traveling a winding road back home from Purcellville, I was caught up in the beauty of autumn and the beauty of the Creator. Phrases and images came to mind for the first in a long time. And so, tired as I am this night, I felt that I could not yet sleep until it had been poured out of my head and unto paper. Well, technically, typed onto the computer (but it’s more poetic to say it the other way). So here is my first offering in a long time….
I journey down the well-worn path
winding through the weary mountains,
a gray-soaked day with autumn chill,
trees revealing the Master’s hands.

My breath is stilled.

Yellow brilliance shouts of the orb
created to light on day four,
orange is aflame like the fire
at night by Israel going before,
and crimson calls my mind to blood
shed as curse, so I’m saved and blessed.
The foggy mist blankets the sod,
secure as His loving-kindness.

Glory to God.

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