I’ve been going to a local bar with a friend of mine
to sit and chat and socialize
Triglycerides *
I have green tea*
They put up with me

By LDCB

I have no control. No pride in that. I like it much better this way.

Its hard though.

I want to run ahead, and be the one who figured it out. But I am finding – once again – that God is my only Obstacle.

When I wrote that in my journal all those years ago, I was expressing my exasperation with trying to become whom I was supposed to be by now. All these years later, the begin point of this blog, there’s still that same frustration. And then, there’s that same submission to his rule and authority?

I don’t think the evil that God allows to co-exist in this world is God’s idea. His grace and mercy is attached to us – his children. The evil around me, the pain of the ones around me, effects me, limits me, and gives me pain.

I think of that family down the road, pain in every room. Each with their own burden. When I speak to him, he hears through the paradigm of his own experience, of his own lens. He doesn’t say it out loud, but my words land on his ear, and are instantly re-ordered. Do we do that to God, as well?

A young man that was walking through our neighborhood the other day, for example. I noticed out loud that he had no fear of me. He later re-iterated that he couldn’t accept what I’d said about him, because he lacks confidence. I told him that’s not what I said. He equated “no fear” with “confident”. So words, break down, communication isn’t a simple transaction, its fluid, its interactive. But there has to be trust. There has to be safety.

Oh to be a SAFE PLACE to be.

‘Treat the other man’s faith gently; it is all he has to believe with. His mind was created for his own thoughts, not yours or mine.’

Henry S. Haskins

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

TWO LETTERS, A TELEGRAM, AND A FINALE

By H. S. Haskins

“New York, September 10.

“Dearest Marian:

“Is it not time to break silence? Three months have passed since we quarrelled on the eve of your departure for the mountains. I wrote twice during the first week. You did not answer. Pride forbade my risking another rebuff.

…

“I have stopped running risks in the water. I observe the legal rate of speed in my car. But I have not given up an equally hazardous adventure—loving you.

“Forever and ever yours,

“John.”

Full Text click there for the rest of their correspondence

Joshua 1:8

Hebrews 13:12-14

When I made the treasure chest for My first grand child… it was from my heart…

Then, a sweet young lady asked me, what are you going to make for my child?

…I spent a year labouring over what to make, from my heart… so much at stake

And when I finally built it, my own design, a homage to guitars, to music… my son, whom I am in awe of for his music, for surreptitious phone calls and Red River Valley, played over the phone…

I milled the wood, yellow cedar and yew wood, from old growth salvaged by Clinton, our brother… my son, and when I delivered it… all I could see was awe* in the eyes of all around

I felt guilt for eclipsing every other gift there… a happy moment… worth all the effort, proof of my good heart…
I know you’re in pain… I know your life has had a hard start… but you are being carefully crafted by a loving creator…

So also my life as I look back…. Hewn, milled, design, and craftsmanship… all here…

I love you Jamie, you’re worth the wait… I mourn also, forgive me, for I do still Love Ria… I never gave up on her… I can let go but I won’t forget her… I’ll let her go… but only as one who has passed away

What is an Obstacle?

If I am called by God, to DO, whatever that DO is… can only be impeded by God himself.

I’m not my lifetime I’ve learned about paradox. First a curious kind of observation how God dealt with Balaam… don’t go, then you may go…

Let’s go take a look…

¹² But God said to Balaam, “Do not go with them. You must not put a curse on those people, because they are blessed.”

²⁰ That night God came to Balaam and said, “Since these men have come to summon you, go with them, but do only what I tell you.”

Numbers 22:12 & 20

Numbers 22:12 & 20

So it’s all good… right?

Hmmm… there’s not much distance between verse 20 and 21… seems like it was a night’s sleep was had. Cuz in verse 20 God’s saying,

“Yes, go…” but look at verse 22?!? What the heck happened?!? Nothing is said as to cause… just that God is angry with Balaam “when he went…” take a look:

²¹ Balaam got up in the morning, saddled his donkey and went with the Moabite officials. ²² But God was very angry when he went, and the angel of the Lord stood in the road to oppose him. Balaam was riding on his donkey, and his two servants were with him.²³ When the donkey saw the angel of the Lordstanding in the road with a drawn sword in his hand, it turned off the road into a field. Balaam beat it to get it back on the road.
²⁴ Then the angel of the Lord stood in a narrow path through the vineyards, with walls on both sides.²⁵ When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it pressed close to the wall, crushing Balaam’s foot against it. So he beat the donkey again.
²⁶ Then the angel of the Lord moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left. ²⁷ When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it lay down under Balaam, and he was angry and beat it with his staff.²⁸ Then the Lord opened the donkey’s mouth, and it said to Balaam, “What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?”
²⁹ Balaam answered the donkey, “You have made a fool of me! If only I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now.”
³⁰ The donkey said to Balaam, “Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?”
“No,” he said.
³¹ Then the Lord opened Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown.
³² The angel of the Lord asked him, “Why have you beaten your donkey these three times? I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me. ³³ The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times. If it had not turned away, I would certainly have killed you by now, but I would have spared it.”
³⁴ Balaam said to the angel of the Lord, “I have sinned. I did not realize you were standing in the road to oppose me. Now if you are displeased, I will go back.”
³⁵ The angel of the Lord said to Balaam, “Go with the men, but speak only what I tell you.” So Balaam went with Balak’s officials.

Numbers 22:21-35

This is where I insert the fact that I’m no Bible scholar. I’m a bus driver. I’m an ordinary man, reading the bible with you.

This assertion? Suspicion? Accusation?

“God is my only obstacle” appeared in my journal one day. It was in my own hand writing LOL. But I can let you know that I was about 26 years old, and frustrated with trying to get to where I was convinced I should be by now. I always journal. Lately it seems I do so by shouting down this well that nobody is drawing water from. But back then it was in various notebooks.

I found out from Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird) and Marion Milner (A Life of One’s Own)… that these things happen when you “get lost” while writing… your inmost being, untethered by should and shouldn’t… past the goal posts of trying to impress… and just expressing what’s flowing out… writing – flowing –

Then the next day you are re-reading… and you realize, you see… and well, “God is my only obstacle” was there one day… and what puzzled me then, and not so much now is that folks reaction to that statement… the lack of willingness to engage with me in discussing just what that meant…

Hebrews 5:11-14

Obedience

Here’s my work in progress… First Draft

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

In a crowded tote… the investigators worked hard to find a correlation between all of what they found.

This image, most likely drawn by the oldest daughter, was key.

As frustration mounted, human reasoning was more and more abandoned. In the spirit was found a longing for Christ Jesus.

While praying today, I kept finding myself longing for Jesus to appear and set things straight. It was quite different from the empty hope of winning the 70$ million jackpot.

I looked briefly for an image to represent it all, and realized there could be none!

God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.

John 4:24 KJV

Features:

• Indoor plumbing
• Built in Kitchen
• Access to laundry
• Indoor gym
• Bedding provided

Rates negotiable *

Where I live, housing is getting past what any regular person can afford. Any dry space, that you can fling a mattress down, is appealing.

Its heartbreaking to see folks living in doorways, under bridges, in their cars, in broken down motor homes… but they are surviving, they will not die.

There was this man – a while ago now – who was living in his truck… on a back lot of a local grocery store. The whole community, however, walked by him on their way to and from . . . their lives. I’m not sure if he chose it so that he’d feel safe, but placing myself in his shoes, I wonder.

The trouble with some secluded place, is that there’s nobody there to help you, when you are in distress. It turns out, this fellow was going to and from work, so he left his mobile home – it was a pick-up truck with a canopy, he slept sitting up at the wheel – he left it by itself… so if it was in some secluded place, it’d be vulnerable, and his possessions with it. When he’s vulnerable, fast asleep there, if nobody is close at hand.

And then there’s all of us here. Complicit in what happened. For one afternoon, we who live next door in our housing complex, heard yelling, at first I couldn’t make it out what was being said. But it was rhythmic like a chant; like a toddler who’d dug in, and would have his way.

“Give me back my truck!”

He stood there where his truck once was, loudly, chanting, over and over again, at intervals…

“Give me back my truck!”

“Give me back my truck!”

“Give me back my truck!”

“Give me back my truck!”

Eventually police were called, and he was taken away.

I wish I was a nobody that day, and those days as I walked to and from the bus stop, the grocery store, the bank, the bakery… but I wasn’t.

Because nobody helped that man to find a better way, they just dropped the dime on him, in the cowardly darkness…

Yes, somebody reached out to snatch away the little he had. I’d like to think that he was given some help, and a better choice of place to live.

I realize it’s not the way it could be. No stone soup that day.

“Cut out the cancer, while its just a pollup…” that’s how it was that day.

Anxiety Fast forwarded to the imagined encampment, strength in numbers, all those that are of like station in life, left behind each day to care for the camp, so that none can could rob, steal and destroy. Tow Trucks can be hampered, police . . .

…mischief? Then there’s the real stuff. Where did he go pee? or worse? He’s peaceful, with a small footprint, barely noticeable, kept to himself, but the next and the next, in the parking spots beside him… soon there’d be less than desirables that would come. They would begin to push the envelope, there’d be discarded needles, live poo piles, shredded pizza boxes, barking dogs, mattresses, tents, salvaged nick nacks from nearby bins… heaped up by their home. Noise, at inconvenient times, then our path to and from our cozy lives, would be blocked, as they defended their territory, “halt who goes there!” Yes… cut out the cancer.

What’s happened here!?

I read old books. Resurrection, by Leo Tolstoy. He was a wealthy landowner’s son. Not like you and me know. A landlord. This is back in 1886. In motherland Russia. The folks who lived on his land didn’t own the land, and they didn’t even own the fruit they grew on it. He and his family lived in opulence. I wish I knew what opulence meant, I wish YOU knew what opulence meant, then you’d know that he didn’t reuse or launder his silk hanky’s. They were single use nose blowers, then discarded. There were maids, and servants, pearl handled brushes, and parties, and sleeping around. The idle rich. Fake hair, and fake problems, fake distresses as they devour one another. Picture money pouring in from one side, it looks like money, but if you peeled it, you’d see its made of the blood sweat and tears of little boys and girls, and their parents in squalor – and on the other side, through a drain, over there by the wall, the river flowed out, into the pockets of those who attach themselves to the rich. When Neckludoff had his life slammed up against a wall… but when I think about it, it was more like the awakening, that’s another Title for “Resurrection”

he woke up from the dream, the drunken stupor, to find his markings, and puss all around him. It shattered his opulence, I should go look up opulence, and he was confronted….

In Nekhludoff, as in all people, there were two beings; one spiritual, who sought only such happiness for himself as also benefited others; and the animal being, seeking his own happiness for the sake of which he is willing to sacrifice that of the world. During this period of his insane egotism, called forth by the life in the army and in St. Petersburg, the animal man dominated him and completely suppressed the spiritual man. But, seeing Katiousha, and being again imbued with the feelings he formerly experienced [Pg 55]toward her, the spiritual man raised his head and began to assert his rights. And during the two days preceding Easter an incessant struggle was going on within Nekhludoff of which he was quite unconscious.

The Awakening, Leo Tolstoy

What’s interesting is that this is the flashback.. of his innocence and his animal man inner man… drawing up the battle lines… for soon you’ll see who/what wins out… and the calamity of… the results of making those wrong decisions…

Something happens that shatters the whole paradigm… and Nekhludoff began to repent… in every area of his life… and repentance isn’t as easy as he thought…

its worth the read… here it is… again… but here read>

All the efforts of several hundred thousand people, crowded in a small space, to disfigure the land on which they lived; all the stone they covered it with to keep it barren; how so diligently every sprouting blade of grass was removed; all the smoke of coal and naphtha; all the cutting down of trees and driving off of cattle could not shut out the spring, even from the city. The sun was shedding its light; the grass, revivified, was blooming forth, where it was left uncut, not only on the greenswards of the boulevard, but between the flag-stones, and the birches, poplars and wild-berry trees were unfolding their viscous leaves; the limes were unfolding their buds; the daws, sparrows and pigeons were joyfully making their customary nests, and the flies were buzzing on the sun-warmed walls. Plants, birds, insects and children were equally joyful. Only men—grown-up men—continued cheating and tormenting themselves and each other. People saw nothing holy in this spring morning, in this beauty of God’s world—a gift to all living creatures—inclining to peace, good-will and love, but worshiped their own inventions for imposing their will on each other.

Last night I had a nightmare… so many things about it were typical…

As I spoke about it out loud this morning to my wife, who was glancing at her watch a little too often btw LOL Certain things became clear to me… so… take off your watch and have a listen?

I was on a trip with Ashton, each of us had a bike, and I had managed to get on the bus WITH my bike… but I wasn’t driving, I was sitting near the front… and as we pulled out of the stop, Ashton wasn’t with us… “Where’s my son!?!”

Driver: sorry, but the bike rack was full…

I looked out the front window, saw the rack was full…

“I gotta go back and get him…” I says,

Driver pulled over, I got off…

As dreams go… nothing went right… streets became confused, and buildings appeared to impede my prospects…

…couldn’t get back to the mainroad, running out of time… I pulled out my phone, a call was in progress!?!? Struggled to get that call to end… finally! Then trying to make the call, can’t find the phone icon… finally, get it… then as I’m trying to call, Ashton doesn’t answer… but in the meantime another caller calls me… with some business or other I’d been trying to keep track of… suddenly, I’m on that person’s balcony, so I ditch the bike there, hop off the balcony, and run down the road, here comes Ashton… sauntering along on a recumbent bike, relaxed and composed… his phone was in his backpack…

My musings:

I’m so busy with my life… my bike, my bus… my cares and concerns… and in the meantime my young man’s life is clicking by… the notion “I should be in his life more” is there… but also, I WANNA be more with him more… but also, I gotta look after him, micro-manage him…

The interruptions and things that get in my way… that’s like my life, tyranny of the urgent

Can’t get him on the phone, my lifeline…

But when I finally get to him, he’s sipping his Rootbeer, reclined, strolling along… Ashton’s Got this…

Now I wonder… is that because I know that deep inside? Or did God patch a message through? “Hey, Dad, relax, OUR man’s doing ok!”

you just can’t hug a butterfly…

it wouldn’t understand

I’ll just stay here, so absolutely still, that it won’t differentiate me from the grass and trees… heck, its doesn’t even know how to spell it!

I’ll stay here, quiet and still, as it flies nearer, blown here and there by the gentle breezes…

Who knows why butterflies fly around… haven’t they already made it! They ain’t a worm no more! The ambition of the caterpillar, that much I get, I understand that I think… but the butterflies… they keep on, there’s more of life to live I see…

Gently Gently… C H Spurgeon comes to mind…

When a candle is newly lighted and needs to be moved, it must be carried at a slow pace or it will be extinguished. A fire which is almost expiring may be revived by a gentle breath, but it will be blown out if the bellows are plied at their full force. You can drown a little plant by watering it too much, and destroy a lovely flower by exposing it to too much sun.

Gently Gently, C H Spurgeon