My friend John

I was reminded today of an old friend that helped me fall in love with British Literature as a college student and of a poem that should be read more often.

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
by John Donne


AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.





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Source:
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 51-52.

Old Lyrics, New Blessing

"Thy Word have I hidden in my heart that I might not sin against thee." There are all kinds of things hidden in my heart, thankfully God's word is there, too. It's living and active, full of power, able to teach, admonish, rebuke and encourage. (Yes, I know I mixed at least two verses in that sentence.) Psalm 40 says, "I waited patiently for the Lord. He heard my cry and lifted me out of the miry clay. He put my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth that many may see and fear and put their trust in the Lord." This morning, I woke up very slowly, not entirely sure I wanted to get out of bed at all. The enemy was well ahead of me. It was as though he stood waiting beside my bed with a steaming mug full of guilt and shame, reminding me of all my failures. I didn't acknowledge him directly. It never does me much good. I did look to the Lord, though, full of questions. Why and How? Why in the world do you put up with me, Lord? How in the world do you continue letting me live, much less use me? That's when the song started. It was such an old song, sung by someone I'd written off, judged unworthy to sing such things, a "moral failure." But the song wouldn't be silenced. It was coming out of a hiding place, long forgotten in a dusty part of my memory. It was a soft humming at first, subtle. Then the lyrics came with it, and their import nearly took my breath away as I put my feet on the floor and began my morning routine. Stubborn love. It's your stubborn love that never lets go of me. Pefect love, embracing the worst in me.
It's true! It's so true. God's love has absolutely nothing to do with anything good in me. Nothing to do with anything I might have done to earn it. The bad in me far outweighs the good. The funny thing about His love, though, is that it is completely stubborn. Here's how the song goes ...

I'm caught again, your faithless friend
do you ever tire of hearing
What a fool I've been
guess I should pray what can I say
Oh, it hurts to know the hundred times I've caused you pain
Forgive me sounds so empty
when I never change
Yet you stay and say you love me still forgiving me time and time again

Chorus:
It's your stubborn love
that never lets go of me
I don't understand how you can stay
Perfect love, embracing the worst in me
How I long for your stubborn love

Funny me, just couldn't see, even long before I knew you, you were loving me
Sometimes I cry, you must cry too,
when you see the broken promises
I made to you, I keep saying that I'll tryst you, though I seldom do,
yet you stay and say you love me
still knowing someday I'll be like you

(Chorus)

It's your stubborn love that never lets go of me
I don't understand how you stay
Perfect love, embracing the worst in me
and you'll never let me go
I believe I finally know,
I can't live without, your stubborn love.

Wonders of Walmart

I journaled this morning about my fear that I'd lost my sense of wonder at the world. After reading a particular devotional thought, I realized that I don't spend much time at all contemplating things that are too wonderful for me to comprehend. If I can't get my mind around something, I'm generally pretty content to just let it be and recognize that God is so much bigger than my small mind. However, an afternoon trip to the ghetto WalMart today seems to have reawakened my sense of wonder.
Well, actually, I think it started this morning when I watched a very long funeral procession go by and noticed that instead of the usual parking lights turned on to mark them as mourners, they were all driving with their flashers!
Anyway, back to WallyWorld. First, there was the strange little woman in the parking lot that faked me out. She was putting a cart in the cart-keeper, and I mistakenly assumed she would finish her task in a timely manner, get in her car, and drive away. So, I paused and waited to take her space. (Ghetto Walmart is crowded even in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon!) However, when she'd put the cart away, she walked across the parking aisle to another cart, rounded it up, and put it away, too. By this point, I'd figured out that it was pointless to wait on her, but I was fascinated to see her heading for another as I turned down the next row. This was NOT a Walmart employee mind you.
As I parked my car, and checked my purse to make sure I had my list and my phone with me, I saw another "wondrous" site, a full grown man in a pickup truck pulled into the spot next to me. He looked normal enough, dressed in a gray t-shirt (the softest kind!) and khaki shorts, but I noticed something odd as he headed off across the parking lot (we were parked a significant distance from the entry). He wasn't wearing any shoes! None, at all! He'd driven his truck to Walmart, gotten out, and danced (it was black asphault on a 95 degree day afterall!) toward the entrance. I'm assuming they let him inside in his barefoot state because I didn't pass him coming back out as I headed for the door. How does one decide that it's appropriate to just go walking through Walmart (much less the parking lot!) without shoes on?!
I don't think I have time to recount for you the "wonder"ful sites I encountered in the Walmart aisles, but suffice it to say, I am duly convinced that there are very few things one cannot buy at Walmart, except for the rock shaped hide-a-key for which I was hunting, of course!
My excursion was only complete when I had made my purchases and stepped toward the exit only to be greeted by a sweet little man in a blue vest who interrupted his lively conversation with a man who was obviously an Elvis impersonator without his jumpsuit long enough to wish me "G'day!"
G'day indeed! :-)