I finally looked hard through the window of memory, a neat square cut into the years.~Darin Strauss (From Half A Life)
I step back and look into the window of memories I've carved out while in Italy. Days spent with my husband exploring small villages by motorcycle have created new intimacies with him. I'm grateful for our dreamscape adventures in his beautiful country.
Too, I'm reminded as I've spent time in a new culture, how much more alike people are than different.
The nextdoor neighbor patiently cares for her husband who is cognitively impaired after a stroke. The young, virile son of a loved one suffers a random accident while playing soccer. How will this change his life? His viewpoint?
People gather in outdoor cafes, earbuds in place, connected to their phones and screens.
I stand in an elevator with an immigrant family. The mother wears an ankle-length, black and white print dress. My eyes are drawn to her worn sandals, her swollen feet. The father holds his toddler's hand. The little boy looks up at me and I smile at him. He waves shyly and says, "ciao." I meet the mother's gaze; her soulful brown eyes say with no words that she is strong. I wonder if my eyes communicate admiration. When she and her husband step out of the elevator, I notice an infant swaddled on her back. I wonder about her story.
I love the windows in Italy and craft a photograhic collage of images on my phone. Often pots of red or purple flowers grace the window sills. Ivy tumbles over the ledges. Lace curtains flutter in the breeze. Decorative iron work fits over the glass and screens. I realize that sometimes the symbol of a cross emerges in the iron work. Perhaps what I feel when I'm drawn to these windows is the desire to see people more deeply--to remember how we all need the goodness of God and the hope and salvation available at the cross of Christ.
Many of you readers have shared with me over the past few months your passion to keep creating and pursuing the desires God has given you--growing your own food for your families and for your communities, writing music to uplift and inspire hope. Others of you have started businesses online to support other artists. You are submitting poetry and writing stories and books that reflect God's grace and values. The list goes on.
I implore you not to give in to overwhelm in our culture, or believe that your endeavors are too small or don't really matter. Now, more than ever, the world needs your voices, your perspectives on the ways of God--your stories, your creativity, the way you see through your window. Let the cross of Jesus emerge as you carve out your neat square into the years.
Sending love. God's peace to all of you.
The particular shape of the doorknob, which had left an emotional imprint in the hollow of her hand.~Tatiana de Rosnay (From Flowers of Darkness)
Sometimes it's daunting to remember the elements, the ingredients of beauty. Yet each day we can find some bejeweled additives when we look. Here's an excerpt from my book, On A Clear Blue Day, entitled Doors:
The night of the festival, downtown was packed with people. I had to park at least four blocks away from the event. I groaned, thinking I should have anticipated the lack of parking and worn more sensible shoes. I faced a lot of cobblestones. I walked gingerly in my heels and began to notice details I'd failed to observe on other occasions when I walked more briskly in the neighborhood.
The evening light possessed a translucent quality. Silvery wisps of cloud as well as violet brushstrokes streaked the sky. A light wind blew and lifted the bangs from my forehead. I noted the homes had much character. One was painted yellow with cherry trim. The front window held box planters filled with curled ribbons of ivy and red geraniums. A gas flame lamppost glowed as the early evening began to inch toward nightfall. Another house contained an elaborate iron fence that curved around the perimeter of the property. The iron work was so delicate and intricate that I stopped and placed my fingers through the iron bars, wishing I could push open the gate and enter the magical yard.
As I continued to slowly make my way to the festival, the variety of doors on the homes captivated me. Some were massive, polished and shining--decorative knockers taking prominence in the middle of the wood. Others were painted in more muted shades of gray or ochre. Some were painted lime green. One was a startling shade of orange. All extraordinary.
Looking at these doors, I thought of the verse in Scripture where Jesus stands at the door and knocks. Behold, I'm standing at the door, knocking. If your heart is open to hear my voice and you open the door within, I will come in to you and feast with you, and you will feast with me. (Revelation 3:20, The Passion Translation).
I could see in my mind's eye Jesus going to these homes, grasping the heavy knockers and rapping on the doors. I could almost hear the hammering sound of brass on wood echoing through the twilight. Would anyone answer? Would anyone invite Him in? At that moment, in the gentle light of dusk, I could think of nothing more wonderful than sitting down with Jesus and having a meal. He would invite me to rest and sup--to be restored mind, body and spirit.
These next weeks I will be away. I hope to be back on the page sometime in October. Until then, feel the shape of the doorknob in the hollow of your hand and open the door each day to the intimacy and majesty of our Lord. Even in the desperation and darkness of our culture, there is beauty to be found in Him. May every one of you overflow with the grace and favor of our Lord Jesus Christ. (Philippians 4:23, TPT)
We make our way, and effort and time give us cushion and dignity. And as we age, we're riding higher in the saddle, seeing more terrain.~Darin Strauss (From Half A Life)
I wasn't sure I'd be back to the page before October. Didn't know if I'd have bandwidth to write after making it to Italy. All the trips across the ocean beforehand add up to this one.
Previous trips have found me here in the boot feeling anxious, fretting, embarrassed and ashamed regarding my poor Italian. I haven't been able to shake off the shame. Unable to relax and enjoy the beauty. This time around, I have more margin, the pace gentler. I don't have to cram everything into a two-week time period and then get back on the job. My language skills are somewhat improved. I've begun to open my mouth and try to form the syllables of this melodic language.
And there is the succulent light of the Italian countryside, the mix of sun and shadows that creates a benediction. In the house, there is a view from every room. Plowed fields, homes painted ochre and gold. Coral. Purple Crepe Myrtle blooms stand contrasted against lemon-colored walls. The moon is full now, and a few nights ago Giovanni and I drove on a black-topped road that wound through cornfields. The breeze like cashmere on our skin, that glowing orb of moonlight like God's face lighting up the night sky.
I'm not sure why it has taken me so long to relax, I'm closer to seventy now than sixity or fifty. These anxieties, these fears, these worries, this shame is not mine to carry. God's kindness is like the scent of frankincense for my mind and heart. It is the mercy of God that provides cushion and dignity. He is a good guide, helping me to make my way.
...the source of life Christ, who puts us together in one piece, whose very breath and blood flow through us.~Col. 2:19 (The Message)
Thank you for your indulgence to begin reading these posts earlier than anticipated. I am posting some photos on Instagram and Twitter if you are interested. Find the links in my newsletter and on the contact tab of the website.
I found a pathway in Italy, a ribbon of blacktop cut through the countryside where I enjoy walking. One day I spied a sign while on the trail, "Zona di Rifugio." In Italian this means "Refuge Zone." The field is an immense space where birds and other animals can feed and roam freely, protected from hunters.
Light fills this pathway. Perhaps the light is what I love most about my time in this country. Dappled light accents ancient stone floors in the cathedrals; streaming golden rays cast light on massive columns. The glory of stained glass, deep hues of orchid and red, cerulean and amber glow from circular windows. Frescoes and paintings reflect the beauty of both shadow and brilliance. Bougainvillea spills gleaming and purple from balconies.
There aren't enough words to describe the loveliness of this country. Its beauty is refuge. Like God. He, too, is a refuge zone. His goodness is too much to fathom, like the glorious light. I can only choose to stay inside the zone where the light never fades, the protection never ends. Being here in Italy acts as a catalyst to more deeply experience and understand the mercy of Christ's shelter. He beckons me to stay, be near. Receive His beauty, allow His light to warm and comfort, to heal.
...it is good to be near God...I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge.~Psalm 73:28 (NIV)
Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity. Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.~Simone Weil
We stayed for hours. The South Carolina Aquarium sits on the edge of the Charleston Harbor. From its balconies one can peer out over the horizon and observe sailboats drifting across the blue waters, gaze upon white cloud banks. Feel an ocean breeze upon your face, inhale the tang of salt. My grandchildren and I moved from the structure's terraces into its lavish walls filled with the glory of God's creatures.
We stood mesmerized as sunlight poured into a large tank, highlighting brown spots on a giant sea turtle's face as she swam elegantly through the water. Sharks, too, with their pointed snouts, gray and stealthy. And beautiful. Schools of angel fish, yellow and black markings like artistic brushstrokes. Orange coral. We feasted together at this dazzling table of ocean delights. We didn't hurry, perhaps one of life's greatest luxuries.
And then we entered "The Shallows." This area is a large pool filled with sting rays. One can dip their hands in the cool water and with two fingers gently touch the backs of the exquisite creatures. Initially, we leaned over the tank's walls and cautiously dipped our fingers into the pool. The rays swam by us, their lovely bodies undulating through the water like sea angels. Our timidity soon evaporated as we plunged our hands further down and ran our fingers over their gray backs, slick and firm. Soon we could not get enough, the wonder in petting the rays bringing us immense delight. We bent shoulder to shoulder over the tank, often turning sideways to look at one another and exclaim our pleasure, our sheer enjoyment in these dignified and graceful sea creatures.
I found this description of the rays at thegardenisland.com: The Hawaiian name for the manta ray is 'hahalua" which means "two breaths," and this gentle giant of the sea has a long history with the Hawaiian people, many of whom feel the manta ray represents wisdom, grace, strength and flow. In the company of each other, amidst these marvelous creatures, we experienced the purest form of God's generosity. His unmixed attention.