Archives for May 2011
O most great, most just and gracious God; you are of purer eyes than to behold iniquity; but you have promised mercy through Jesus Christ to all who repent and believe in him.
Therefore we confess that we are sinful by nature and that we have all sinned and come short of the glory of God.
We have neglected and abused your holy worship and your holy name. We have dealt unjustly and uncharitably with our neighbours. We have not sought first your kingdom and righteousness.
We have not been content with our daily bread.
You have revealed your wonderful love to us in Christ and offered us pardon and salvation in him; but we have turned away.
We have run into temptation; and the sin that we should have hated, we have committed.
Have mercy upon us, most merciful Father! We confess you alone are our hope. Make us your children and give us the Spirit of your Son, our only Saviour. Amen
Oh, how I love these 5-minute Friday prompts. Kudos and deep thanks to Lisa-Jo for faithfully opening her blog to all of us who love to chime in. It’s five minutes of unedited writing – “just write without worrying about whether or not it’s just right.” This week’s topic is another doozy: On Forgetting
I’m downright curious to see where I go with this one.
Forgetting is such a bittersweet word for me just now. Sweet because it conjures up the wonderful truth that Grace forgets my sins as well as forgives them. Sweet because I love thinking back over my life and noting the things that jump to the front for attention, remembering love and laughter. Sweet because I enjoy creating unforgettable moments with those I love – celebrations, conversations, travel. Sweet because memory can be such a boost for the spirits – when those memories are easily accessible and primarily positive.
But bitter because I’m watching, in a terribly up-close and personal way, how memory can desert you as you age. How frightening it can be to not be able to bring forth a word, or a name, or an event, or a conversation – that just happened a few moments or days or weeks ago. Two women whom I love deeply are experiencing this kind of forgetting. One of them is aware of the loss; one is not. And I’ve gotta say – I think I’d rather be in the second category. It’s tough to see yourself slipping ever-so-slowly away and feel pretty powerless to do anything about it.
But then again, maybe that’s why I’m here. To help my mom remember. To tell the stories, at least the more recent ones, enough times so that they move over into her long-term memory, the part that still seems to work amazingly well.
For my mother-in-law, there is also space for story-telling but it feels different somehow. Because she doesn’t know she’s forgotten them, it doesn’t trouble her as much. It’s hard to hold onto the truth of who these women truly are, but I’m doing my best not to forget.
It’s that time again – Friday musings with Lisa-Jo over at the Gypsy Mama. Time yourself – 5 minutes of unedited writing on a theme.
Where I live, it’s about the light.
We don’t get snow.
We don’t get hot sun and humidity.
We don’t get a lot of color change.
Ah, but we do get a change in the angle of the light,
and it’s really something I cherish.
We’re on this odd peninsula here on the central coast of California and our beaches all face south instead of west.
So the angle of the sun, the position of the sun
can change the shape of shadows,
can illuminate the underside of flowering blossoms in different parts of the yard
at different times of the year.
Very little drama, very little shouting.
It’s about subtlety, and the lengthening and shortening of the days.
It’s about the details.
And I love that.
It reminds me of the changing seasons in this life we live.
Some things happen dramatically as we age and ‘season,’ but most things come gradually, in small ways.
Like fine lines on faces.
Like the sudden appearance of gray or silver where there used to be blonde or brunette or red.
Like the mild moments of …. ‘Now what is that word/name/idea I’m searching for..’
Like the small, but unstoppable changes that happen in the littlest of our loved ones, those precious things that mark the passage of time, the changing of seasons.
What never changes is God’s love for us.
What never changes is our need for that love.
What never changes is the truth that
our shadows are seen,
our shadows are known,
our shadows are welcome.
Oh, thank you for that, Lord. Thank you for that.
Photos and formatting added later. Yes, I know that’s a bit of a cheat, but hey – it just worked better with the pictures. No words changed however – just how they appear on the screen.