Wednesday, July 18, 2012

O the depth of the riches... out of the depths, O Lord.

Sitting in the sun --out back --drinking coffee --ate my granola and yogurt.... The awful heat seems to have broken --at least, the mugginess has cleared --for the morning.

The corn, which was "knee high on the Fourth of July" is now taller than the fences. Fields of it. Other places, the drought and heat are causing stress on the field crops. So far, I think we are doing relatively okay. And, I think the other large leafy-green field crop is sunflowers, although the first blooms are not much bigger than my hand.... we'll see. Soon enough.

--and I cut all my hair off.... I couldn't stand it one more day. Short hair is much better for me.... Culturally not so good here --but, there are other women here with short short hair.... So, here am I.

D just asked me --so, when you pass the mirror do you say --Oh! who's that!? I said, no, I look and say --wups, there you are!

Deacon caught someone picking our choke cherries --told him he could pick the cherries that hang out over the road, but not over our side of the fence. I was waiting for the birds to begin eating them before I picked them --they are really not yet sweet. But the picking-someone will be able to sell the bag he had picked for some good money.... He offered to sell Deacon some of the cherries --she said, God grew them, the tree nurtured them --what did he do other than steal them? He then offered to give her some... I am quite sure he got 'the look.'

So, sometime this week, I am going to go to the uneven ground beside her house and pick her some cherries. For her. She says, we used to grind them up --fruit pit and all, make patties about the size and shape of hamburger patties, dry them in the sun --turn them over, dry the other side -then put them in a bag for storage. Then, in the middle of winter, if someone comes for a visit, you pull them out, put them in a pot of water, boil them and add a little thickener, and you can eat summer with them.

I keep trying to remember the bone-cold of February and March --the way the ice formed, thick ice and snow --right where I sit and enjoy my morning cuppa and let the sun and warm breeze caress my thoughts in to the day... and I can't remember the bone-cold. I mean, I can remember it --but I cannot recall the pinch and grab --the full throttle of the cold. I guess we're not supposed to.

God has thrown the cold as far away as the east is from the west....

--and we have been talking in this house a great deal as of late about free will... about perfect liberty and freedom. How the whole of creation is laboring to bring to full fruition the dream of God....

At prayer this morning (from Romans 11)

For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that he may be merciful to all.

O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!

“For who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been his counselor?”
“Or who has given a gift to him,
to receive a gift in return?”

For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever. Amen.

The Franciscans sing that little hymn that goes something like this --O blessed Eve who took the apple, because by the apple and sin we have been given the full measure of grace through Jesus, and are shown the glory of God.

I think that is where Paul is striving to go with talk of disobedience and mercy and the mind of God...

--and so, I will not yet strive to remember either the dry dusty rustle of the corn stalks that is to come, nor the bite of the cold so bitter...

--but just today... just the glory of today.