Remember Intently

...and it was good.

After a slow wakening, yesterday bloomed, danced, rejoiced, rested.

By noon, I was emptied and filled, convicted and encouraged, my mind turning over and over remember, remember, my fingers pouring out music over, onto, into the keys, my heart bursting with something I couldn't - and can't - pin down with words. In a nutshell, the sermon was powerful, and the worship awesome. I never could've imagined playing with such worshipful, talented musicians. But I am so thankful.

My afternoon was spent with the lovely Kate. Business was slow, sadly, but we talked, happily. We talked of communication, relationships, hosting, growth, and God's love. Nourishment to my soul. I had heard much of Kate, from many people, before ever meeting her, and it is a treasure and joy to be able to work with her. So I am thankful.

Driving home, the sun setting to my right, restlessness stirred. Not because I felt unsettled or unhappy, but simply because the world is so beautiful. After our crazy heat wave, the temperature was finally below 80, and with scattered clouds decorating the sky, sunset beckoned with promises.

So I ate a quick small meal, and stepped out into refreshment. The leaning light rendered white sailboats bronze, bright shapes resting in clear blue water. Trees across the way spoke golden-edged of peace. A cool breeze poured off the sea to remind me that the whole earth breathes deeply, in and out, and I should breathe, too. Clouds began pinking, and I hurried at an easy pace to the other side of town.

My park was completely empty. Over the water, the sun settled towards the treetops. I sat on a swing, closed my eyes, and went higher, higher, higher, until I opened my eyes and the sun kissed the trees, and the clouds burned, and the sky's blue deepened to infinity, and joy overflowed.

I watched the sunset with Jesus, and it was beautiful. Just like Him.

On the way back, those still-pink clouds kept catching me. The railway overpass caught me, too - those tracks always do, glinting on and on as they do. The flowers nodded, leaves waved, and all these distractions only reminded me the words replaying all day in my head: remember, remember.

I unlocked my front door two hours after I left it. Two hours, wandering town with myself and God. Two hours, to breathe, to see, to remember. Two hours, to implant streets, trees, views, colours, into my memory. Two hours to be so fully alive that I felt like a walking contained explosion. Did you see me glowing?

I will remember, not as one who looks in the mirror and forgets what they saw, but as one who looks intently, and does not forget. Please remember, I tell myself, remember how beautiful the sky is. Remember the feel of the tree trunks. Remember the smell of the roses. Remember that moment when, flying, Someone touched your heart and you opened your eyes and the whole world was vibrant and changed.

And I recall that word from college, that held me through a whole year: Meminisse. Latin, a command: remember.

Yesterday was glory-filled. There is too much to say. There is much still in wish-form, unformed, not happened yet. Much I want, but do not have. But what of those things? What of my changing desires? What of what could be, might be? That which is now is so good, so beautiful, so full, that I will not remember my unfulfilled wishes. That which I remember is that which I live by, and I don't want to live by doubtful dreams. I will live by the worshipful music, the words of Truth, the moments of beauty, the conversations of encouragement, the refreshment of cooler air, and over it all, the One Who loves and gives.

Meminisse, for He is very good.

bumblebee

Bumblebee lit
on my finger, antennae
whispering against my flesh.

Six feet landed,
soaking sunshine's warmth
from my bare skin.

Circled once,
did Bumblebee, circled twice,
and rested for full minutes

then circled more,
as I lowered my tiring arm to
table's edge.

'Please,' I prayed, 'please
may he leave without stinging me,
but he doesn't need to rush.'

In the heat, all things
move ponderously, even tiny
yellow-and-black bee hairs,

and delicate black
wings. Bumblebee stayed near
my ring for a while,

apparently
satisfied with his new resting-place.
He tickled a bit.

Then, as my watching
gaze drunk in the details of him,
he quadruple-stepped,

and departed
as unexpectedly as he came.
And the hot sun blinded.

actually, i don't want to know

If someone told me, "I can explain everything," I would laugh in their face and walk away. If they tried to start explaining it all to me anyway, I'd loudly recite Jabberwocky, put my hands over my ears, and generally act loony until they gave up.

You see, I don't want to understand everything.

I was thinking about this as I brushed my teeth this morning. Too often, I get frustrated by how little I seem to know, by how dimly I see, and by how uncertain everything is. I get annoyed by my lack of foresight and control. Not that I want to control your life; I want to control my life at least a little better. And so, in that moment, I throw up my hands and blurt out, "I just want someone to explain this all to me!"

I just want to understand, because if I understand, I'll know how to act, react, respond. If I understand, it'll all be better, right? My life will improve, my relationships will improve; in general, everything will get better if I can wrap my mind completely around it all.

But all this just isn't true. Nor is it what I truly want.

When I step out of that moment of frustration, when I've had a decent night's sleep, when I'm honest with myself, I recognize that there are other things I want more than an explanation.

I want a life of surprises. I wait for new things, and watch for new joys, every day. I long for adventure, for discovery, for growth. Joy comes not in the known, humdrum, expected things, but in the unexpected, the bright brilliant bursts of light, the inexplicable wonders. And I want that joy. Next week's plans won't go how I imagine. Even this week's plans are threaded with unknowns, and I relish that. I enjoy having only a framework - tentative, incomplete - on which to hang the daily joys as they come.

What would living be if I knew it all already? Where would the fun be? Where the adventure?

I'm glad I don't know. I'm glad that I don't know where I'll be or what I'll be doing in 2 years. With my track record, it's quite a toss-up. So I fling the coin into the air, and keep going. I don't need to wait for it to land (and if it doesn't land, because a bird gulped it down, where would I be? stuck there, not moving, waiting...). Even though sometimes I wish the puzzle were just a wee bit more done, that's ok. It's a puzzle of a life - it'd be a bummer for it to be all done so early. What would I do with the rest of my life if there were nothing left to find? So with all these questions, big and small, that plague me, that pressure me into demanding answers which I have no right or reason to demand, I will set them aside.

I do not need to know what my "career" will be. I do not need to know when or where I will go back to school. I do not need to know how many children (if any) I will have, nor who I will marry nor when. I do not need to know if a book of my poetry or essays will ever be published. I do not need to know how many pull-ups I will eventually be able to do. I do not need to know when I will return to Rome. I do not need to know if I will ever record as part of a symphonic rock band. I do not need to know so many things. I do not need to know, because there is one thing I do know, and that is sufficient.

The one thing I know is: God is for me.

This is one thing that I know, even though I do not understand. My mind cannot wrap fully around the mystery of God, and even though logic trips over this, yet I know. Or at least, I know enough. And I choose to live based on that partial knowing. I choose to believe that God gives good and perfect gifts. I choose to walk with a profound certainty that He is and will be doing wonderful things for and in me.

I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but this I do know: when I wake up, make breakfast, brush my teeth, I will rejoice. I will give thanks for the lively potential in every moment; I will praise my God that He works in all things; I will choose to be thankful that I am alive, that I am increasing in health, that I know such wonderful people, that I have food to eat, and work to do. I will rejoice always, because "I know whom I have believed," and I am "confident of this, that he who began a good work in us will carry it on to completion."

So, in the words of those greatest of comic philosophers, I say, "It's a wonderful world, Hobbes, ol' buddy. Let's go exploring."

My God and I, we're going to have a grand adventure!