(I'll get to these flowers later)
Here's a late Friday Flash 55 piece, a tale told in exactly 55 words, hosted by the G-man who doesn't know the meaning of defeat:
The ocean’s gray furrowed brow
reminds me of my brother’s face
when he turned toward me to look
unseeing through her window
the day our mother died
Something marched across his face
in regimental rows, something quiet
but relentless as a failing general
reviewing his troops in calm despair
before that final and inevitable loss.
(Earlier in the day)
This morning is a series of stark contrasts. Starting with the micro and moving to the macro, inside me is both dread and willingness. I dread the crap that absorbed my attention yesterday and I'm willing for today to be different.
In the world right around me, neglected undone work hollers, but amidst that is a bouquet of flowers from the garden, quietly resting in their own loveliness.
The world at large clamors with contentiousness. I hear it. But my meditation book contained a different thought:
"Never yield to weariness of the spirit. At times, the world's cares and distractions will intrude and the spirit will become weak. At times like this, carry on and soon the spirit will become strong again. God's spirit is always with you, to replenish and renew. None ever sincerely sought God's help in vain. Physical weariness and exhaustion make a time of rest and communion with God more necessary. When you are overcome by temporary conditions which you cannot control, keep quiet and wait for the power of God's spirit to flow."
In the contrasts that face me today, I think I'll choose the quiet path. I believe I need to rest in the everlasting sheltering arms of the Most High. I pray your day has good in it, and I pray that I can help someone today.
(Postscript 11 p.m.: God answers prayers. I had a miraculous day, and during it, I helped someone. Yay, God. You are, like, totally epic, man!)