LampLight
With no agenda other than the completion of one very annoying draft, I crumpled myself onto my bed, completely wearied by the previous day's events. That's when I looked at things upside down, or rather downside up. There it was, staring me in the face; my life story on a curtain pole. I stared and stared some more. I took a picture but you won't get the fee-ling ah. It's different when you look at it for real (as it is with all other pictures).
Two Light-Holders, one old fashioned, reeking of comfortable tradition and home-comforts. The other sits pristine, new, trendy, alluring. Both hang on the same curtain pole and it is the gap that is between them that induces awe. One speaks of past, of home, of love, of comfort, of immense satisfaction in the click-clock shops around the corner and their lipstick-red buckets and fly-swats. The other speaks of tomorrow, and of today. It shouts possibility, it shouts better, it screams more, and it calls into question beauty and achievement. It makes me remember with aching the Christmases I had as a child, so beautiful and so serene I know our Lord's hand was upon me long before I grew to know him well. It reminds me of the 5.35 pm sunsets in our St. 11 house, the jigsaw we did at Christmas and the smell of fresh rain. Sometimes I ask Him why he brought me here, when so much of yesterday I see in today yet in a less comfortable way. He never tires of explaining his now-plan to me, reminding me that his later-plan will never be compromised. He delights me with His love. And as I sit in this lonely curtain gap, waiting to bridge my life to the other end where the grass looks greener, I catch a glimpse of the similarities. Both lamplights have green, red and gold; both don them with different attitudes and with a different agenda. One is home, one is hope. Yet they are reconciled with the fact that they hold my life in their flickering tealights. One birth, one departure (which is yet another birth, really- a reconcilliation with eternity). And I cannot help but remember that on the tightrope of tonight's one-step-forward, He is here with me. For always. I know that it will all end with His glory and my soul is content with that.
What can I give that is not already yours? My poor wasted heart will marry you, knowing you will carry me to the last door and leave me at Narnia's lamplight to finally see you face to face.
With no agenda other than the completion of one very annoying draft, I crumpled myself onto my bed, completely wearied by the previous day's events. That's when I looked at things upside down, or rather downside up. There it was, staring me in the face; my life story on a curtain pole. I stared and stared some more. I took a picture but you won't get the fee-ling ah. It's different when you look at it for real (as it is with all other pictures).
Two Light-Holders, one old fashioned, reeking of comfortable tradition and home-comforts. The other sits pristine, new, trendy, alluring. Both hang on the same curtain pole and it is the gap that is between them that induces awe. One speaks of past, of home, of love, of comfort, of immense satisfaction in the click-clock shops around the corner and their lipstick-red buckets and fly-swats. The other speaks of tomorrow, and of today. It shouts possibility, it shouts better, it screams more, and it calls into question beauty and achievement. It makes me remember with aching the Christmases I had as a child, so beautiful and so serene I know our Lord's hand was upon me long before I grew to know him well. It reminds me of the 5.35 pm sunsets in our St. 11 house, the jigsaw we did at Christmas and the smell of fresh rain. Sometimes I ask Him why he brought me here, when so much of yesterday I see in today yet in a less comfortable way. He never tires of explaining his now-plan to me, reminding me that his later-plan will never be compromised. He delights me with His love. And as I sit in this lonely curtain gap, waiting to bridge my life to the other end where the grass looks greener, I catch a glimpse of the similarities. Both lamplights have green, red and gold; both don them with different attitudes and with a different agenda. One is home, one is hope. Yet they are reconciled with the fact that they hold my life in their flickering tealights. One birth, one departure (which is yet another birth, really- a reconcilliation with eternity). And I cannot help but remember that on the tightrope of tonight's one-step-forward, He is here with me. For always. I know that it will all end with His glory and my soul is content with that.
What can I give that is not already yours? My poor wasted heart will marry you, knowing you will carry me to the last door and leave me at Narnia's lamplight to finally see you face to face.
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