Greetings Dear Reader,
Last night I arrived early at the venue for the play I was
attending. It was intentional because I
knew that I wished to do something else first.
On the grounds of the venue is a stream that I used to know well. In that stream is a large bend that forms a deep
eddy pool.
Just above the pool is a camping area for about six motorhomes. With permission from the security guard, I parked
there for a bit. That eddy pool is where
my Sons were baptized. I stopped there
to pray for them. I rolled down my
window and listened to the stream whilst praying. The sound of it is one that I used to hear
often when I lived on these grounds.
From the day they were baptized, promising to use their
lives to follow Christ, I would stop at this pool and pray for my Sons. Then my own failures tore away the fabric of
our world and we all left this place. Since
I have been back here, I go there regularly to pray for them.
There is also a stream that flows by the place where currently
I live. It flows past the house and I
often pause when leaving to listen to it.
The two streams have very different sounds and very different meanings
for me. I am thankful for both. I am grateful for the idea that like streams
we are to flow always onward. In that
flow is where we find life.
Even in the years living in the frozen northern Midwest,
there were streams that I knew. Even in
deep midwinter when the air hurt my face and there was snow upon snow. Beneath snow and ice, those streams still flow. They still yield the movement that is
life. Those frozen streams “thirst for
the thaw but they’re running still.”
I hold out simple gratitude for the constant potential in
the life within a moving stream. It
feeds the world and sings its simple song as it does. It is that constant flow that yields hope and
potential. It is in that hope that I find
the space to have dreams, Dear Reader.
Even when they seem frozen and unreachable, there s hope because I know
that Spring will come and the streams will flow. Perhaps we can find time to sit beside one and
share a tale or two.
Seldom seen a scarecrow's dream
I hang in the hopes of
replacement
Castles tall, I built them all
But I dream that I'm trapped in
the basement
And if you ever hear me calling
out
And if you've been by paupers
crowned
Between the worlds of men and
make-believe I can be found
Plans I've made
A masquerade fading in fear of
the coming day
Heroes' tales like nightingales
Wrestle the wind as they run away
And if you ever hear them calling
out
And if you've been by paupers
crowned
Between the worlds of men and
make-believe I can be found
Garden gate
An empty plate waiting for
someone to come and fill
Scarecrow's dreams like frozen
streams
Thirst for the thaw but they're
running still
And if you ever hear them calling
out
And if you've been by paupers
crowned
Between the worlds of men and
make-believe I can be found
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every
writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a
homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure
store.”
(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Contacts for Aramis Thorn:
Bookings: aramisthorn@aramisthorn.com
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment