Tuesday, October 26, 2010

They don't know my name here

They don't know my name here.
They know my face, they know my voice, my smile.
They know how I walk, how I laugh.
But they don't know my name here.
They know who I'm supposed to be, who I mean to be, who I think I am
But they don't know my name here.
I forget it so often myself.
I know who I'm supposed to be, who I mean to be, who I think I am
But they don't know my name here.
I wonder do they want to know me by name,
Or do I want them to.
There's a certain comfort in the thought --
They don't know my name here.
But then if they don't, who does?
And where does the comfort go then

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Friday, October 15, 2010

Balancing Act


I know I spend a lot of time hugging my balance beam. I think we could all use a nudge to stand up and start learning to walk. This is part of a much longer sermon, so it's not all he has to say (for instance, he isn't saying that what you do on the balance beam is the only thing that matters, and works don't grant you salvation), but even taken out of context, I think this is a pretty good reminder of how easy it is to let our love for God sit stagnant and remain safe and contained and in the end fairly fruitless. Just saying "I love You" isn't enough. God calls us to do much more.

Monday, October 11, 2010


Today I will not let negativity cloud my vision or color my day. I will rise above the rainy day attitude that so easily creeps into my life, and I will look for the Sun shining above every step I take. The Sun never stops shining, things just get in the way of it, and all I have to do is make my way past the darkness and the clutter that shadows my day until a tiny beam of light peeks through.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010


What is it about grandparents that makes them so great? I wonder, is it life that has made them this way? Should we all expect to love the way they do when we've lived as long as they have? Perhaps they have had so many opportunities to love and be loved, and they have sifted through all of the things in life that are unfulfilling and meaningless, and they know so much more deeply than we do the incredible importance of love. Because that certainly is all I ever got from my grandparents. I often wonder if everyone's grandparents were as amazing as mine were. And obviously not all grandparents are saints (I strongly believe that most if not all of mine were), but I'd have to say that the general consensus is, at least in the eyes of the grandchildren, that most are indeed saints. I believe if you asked any parent, they would say that children are the greatest blessing they have ever received. And I can only imagine what it would be like to see your blessings get little blessings of their own. Surely it reminds the grandparents of the time that their children were born, and it must be a bit of a chance to relive their parenthood, only with a lot fewer sleepless nights. And maybe it gives them a chance to love in the way that they might not have gotten to love their children when they were younger and less mature and not quite as well rested. I hope and pray that my future children are able to feel the love of a grandparent, because it could quite possibly be the earthly love that most closely resembles God's love for us. I recently read a passage by Charles Spurgeon about the blessing of old age, and how "At evening time it shall be light" (Zech. 14:7). The older we get, the closer we are to our homes, and the more settled our hearts surely become, because with each passing day we inch closer to God. Maybe that proximity is what accounts for the love that grandparents pour out unto their grandchildren to no end. Or maybe it's God's way of helping them leave their legacy of love as they draw nearer to the end of life. Or maybe it's a realization of how precious life is, how precious love is, how precious we are. I don't know what it is, but I know I am better for having received it, and I hope some day to be able to pass it on to my grandchildren.