Poetry Friday: Emily Dickinson's House

Last weekend we visited Emily Dickinson's house in Amherst, Massachusetts. It is beautiful and the staff is knowledgeable. My favorite detail was the pine cone placed on each chair where visitors may not sit. The Dickinson poem after the photos seems appropriate since the table where Hope is dining will only seat one.

 

Hope

Hope is a subtle glutton;

He feeds upon the fair;

And yet, inspected closely,

What abstinence is there!

His is the halcyon table

That never seats but one,

And whatsoever is consumed

The same amounts remain.

 

Emily Dickinson

 

Margaret has today's roundup.

Poetry Friday: Sunflakes

Sunflakes

by Frank Asch

If sunlight fell like snowflakes,

gleaming yellow and so bright,

we could build a sunman,

we could have a sunball fight,

we could watch the sunflakes

drifting in the sky.

 

Here's the rest. 

 

We're about halfway through the summer; enjoy today's sunflakes! It'll be back to school before you know it! 

 

Robyn has today's roundup. 

SJT: I don't know

Welcome to July's Spiritual Journey Thursday. Please leave your links in the comments and I will round them up. We skipped the first Thursday in July because it was a holiday, but also because I had forgotten I had even signed up to host this month. It was on my calendar, but I hadn't looked at it. I'm in the part of the summer when I don't know what day it is. Also, we are traveling (we were in seven states yesterday), and completely out of our routine. I have a reminder on my phone to take my daily medications, but it's on the Uganda time zone (EAT: East African Time), so although it is set for 5:30 AM at home, here it appears at either 9:30 or 10:30 PM, depending on whether we're in Eastern time zone or Central. Oh well. I see it in the morning, swallow my pills, and call it good. 

All of this fits well with the theme I chose for this month: I don't know. That is the theme, not my statement about it. I don't know. The older I get, and the longer I walk on this path of faith and trust, the fewer things I am 100% sure about. I used to have answers for many more questions than I do now. While I knew I didn't understand everything that happened to me, I figured that someday I would. I'm not so convinced of that any more. My life isn't a novel where I can be guaranteed a satisfying dénouement; the story could be told in many different ways, but to make it a clear narrative, humanly speaking, you'd have to leave out large quantities of inexplicable junk. And I'm often left mystified about what to do next. Every moment is brand new, and all my years of experience making tough decisions and figuring out the upcoming path don't necessarily help with today's dilemmas. 

Here's a quote from Emily P. Freeman's latest book. (Yes, I've been quoting from it a lot lately. I really recommend it. It's called How to Walk into a Room and you can read more about it here.) Emily talks about different kinds of fires in chapter 5, and asks: "What kind of fire is this anyway? Is God standing by, ever the expert, bearing witness to the refining, making space for new, good growth in this planned, controlled burn? Or is this a fire that has caught God by surprise? Is this a fire of destruction, taking the waste and the wellness alike? Sometimes our questions don't reflect facts, reason, logic, or good theology. Sometimes our questions reveal our lack of faith, our fear, or our confusion. Ask them anyway. God has what it takes to sort it out."

 

Below I've posted a video of an a cappella group singing the song "I Know Whom I Have Believed." Each verse is a list of all the things the songwriter doesn't know, but then each ends with a Bible verse, 2 Timothy 1:12: "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day." My list of things I don't know would be a bit different, but I can hold on to that thing that I do know: God is still with me and can hold all my questions and help me navigate each day. Even if I never figure out any of the answers.

 

Back in 2010 I used the metaphor of a GPS when I wrote about dealing with family life after the earthquake in Haiti displaced us. I still think it's a good metaphor. In the borrowed car we're driving on our summer odyssey, the GPS is built in, and the car helpfully tells us where we should go next. But if we turn off the path, on purpose or by mistake, it's immediately recalculating, trying to give us a new suggestion. "Make a legal U-turn," the voice calmly counsels. And I love the little excited lilt when it says, "Turn left at the end of the road." As though the end of the road is going to bring some exciting surprises. And maybe it will. I don't know. 

From Henri Nouwen's book Lifesigns: "'Do not be afraid, have no fear,' is the voice we most need to hear. This voice was heard by Zechariah when Gabriel, the angel of the Lord, appeared to him in the temple and told him that his wife, Elizabeth, would bear a son; this voice was heard by Mary when the same angel entered her house in Nazareth and announced that she would conceive, bear a child, and name him Jesus; this voice was also heard by the women who came to the tomb and saw that the stone was rolled away. 'Do not be afraid, do not be afraid, do not be afraid.' The voice uttering these words sounds all through history as the voice of God's messengers, be they angels or saints. It is the voice that announces a whole new way of being, a being in the house of love, the house of the Lord....The house of love is not simply a place in the afterlife, a place in heaven beyond this world. Jesus offers us this house right in the midst of our anxious world." 

 

Here are links to other SJT contributors' posts:

 

Patricia's beautiful post shares some things she doesn't know, and the way her IDKs inform her prayers.

Denise also shares what she does about the I don't knows in a post filled with goodness.

Margaret didn't know, but then she acted anyway. Way to go, Margaret!

 

Leigh Ann has written about wisdom, as she's been studying the Biblical book of Proverbs. "Chapter 8 taught me that everywhere I look, wisdom is calling out," she writes. "But what keeps me from not seeing it or keeps me in the I don't know? Am I taking the time to search for wisdom or to notice it. Sometimes, it's easier to just say, 'I don't know.'"

 

Ramona wrote about the ultimate I don't know, death. Beautiful, Ramona! 

 

Bob reminds us that it's OK not to know. Because God knows.

Carol tells us about the uncertainties she's been facing lately. So many difficulties, and yet Carol has found wisdom in them! 

Karen has a wonderful description of her VBS experience this week!

Keisha wrote a poem called "I don't know."