A Prayer For The Dying

 I had something else planned for today, but I think a lament for the victims of the midair collision at Reagan National Airport in Washington, DC, is more appropriate.

A long time ago I collided with powerlines while flying a light aeroplane. While both the aeroplane and I were damaged, we remained flyable, and I had a chance to think about things on the way to a safe but weird landing at a local airfield.

The video footage I have seen makes it unlikely that anyone survived, and I pray the grace of God covered the victims with numbness as they fell from the sky. Last moments of clarity really, really suck.

Please close the eyes and minds and hearts

of those about to die

as the hold on life departs 

against a darkling sky.

Let not sharp fear be their embrace

in this last and worst of harms;

I pray they see Your smiling Face,

safe now in Your arms,

carried through the shining gates

and on the streets of gold

where a multitude awaits,

a warmth that fades the Earthly cold

and clothes them in garments that shine

which mark them as forever Thine.

Music from James Taylor, with Fire And Rain 

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is SECOND.

How much fits into a second,

can we really know?

Is it what we've always reckoned,

or is there something deep below

the pass of time that we assume,

the clock's infernal ticking?

Is there some possible room

for us to be picking 

the way we follow the broad stream

of God's river of will?

Is this viewpoint too extreme,

or is there somewhere a calm still

pool of beauty and time's grace

in which we see God's changeless face?

Sylvia admits that some things are beyond ice cream's power, and require God

. 

Climbing The Tree Of Hope (Tell His Story)

 Despair's been big on my mind lately, and I try to keep it warded off with long-term projects. Not easy to do when you're tied to an oxygen hose and having a Diet Coke really hurts the gut, but there you go.

It's tempting, sometimes, to over-reach, to get to ambitious for the day's abilities, on the theory that it's better to aim high and miss the mark than aim low and make it.

Pardon my French, but bollocks.

A failed attempt, however noble, is still a failure, and builds a foundation of doubt.

A small success, however small, is success, and builds a foundation of confidence.

And sitting here with the pain and fatigue and incontinence (truth hurts!), I need to build confidence, and never discouragement.

Climbing up the tree of hope,

so slender and so tall;

tie yourself off with a rope,

for if you slip and fall

it's a long way to that hard cold ground,

and tough to get back up,

and one thing in this life I've found,

that caution's a grace-cup

to hold you in the tired hours,

when you're apt to take a chance 

for which you do not have the powers

to keep footing and balance.

It's not weakness to stop and rest;

that pause may be you at your best.

Sylvia says, yeah, pause and have some ice cream!

 

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Songs Made New

Cancer's cost me a lot since the beginning of the year, so I thought I'd have some fun.

While I can, said the melodramatic poet.

Barb's wakeup tune on her phone got modified...

Lord, I lift Your name on High

with a fifth of Southern Rye.

You had better drink it neat

before You have to meet 

 me and all of my mad mates

at those big pearly gates 

'cause we know You're gonna cry

when we drink Your Heaven dry!

Oh, very well. Here's the original.

More?

Well, the 5 am Chihuahuas are an inspiration...

Let Chihuahuas run,

let all their barking

wake the neighbours!

They sleep too long

any...way!

I feel kinda bad for Carly Simon.

Syl doesn't feel bad at all.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is FAVOUR.

The Good Lord has done me the favour 

of granting humour to resist 

the galling path of cancer's labour,

but there are those who might insist

that I back off on the laughs,

and pay meet homage to the sacred,

but I will sign death's autographs

with a grin, and make the naked

admission that there's naught to lose,

for God must have a sense of fun,

and maybe sometimes wears clown shoes 

and snaps a wad of bubble gum,

and if I'm wrong as about said bubble,

boy, might I be in big trouble.

Syl has no words, but she's a dog.

 

For Pity's Sake (Tell His Story)

 What do you do when you are past

the strength that you depended on?

What do you do when the last

reserves of faith have fled, are gone?

What do you do when each demand

is piled onto things left undone,

and no-one seems to understand 

that at last your race is run?

Do you beg for pity's sake

from your bended knees,

asking that God please not break

the soul that's now the least of these?

The better me knew, long ago,

but now I know that I don't know.

Sylvia doesn't know, either.

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Penance

 God's given me the City's keys,

and this I have been told,

that I need not walk on bended knees

upon the Streets of Gold,

for down here Someone did my time,

and paid my dues in full

for my grand-dad Adam's crime,

and that I need not pull

that weight of sin upon my back

up penance's hard cliff.

God will now give me the slack

to know the when (not if!)

of my arrival by His side 

as He beams and laughs with pride.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is EFFORT. I'll have a try.

There are times I wonder why

I still make an effort

to touch my blue and long-lost sky,

to find the joys I used to court

of flight in the empyrean,

dancing 'tween the clouds so white,

partaking of the golden dream,

the soaring soul, the gift of flight.

My body's burning down to ash,

and looking up just hurts my heart,

but I am not prepared to trash

that world of which I was a part,

so I'll believe just for today

that my Lord will make a way.

Here's a clip from The Mission that kinda describes what I mean.

Sylvia says the only panance I need practice is for the times I was slow in getting her ice cream.

The Ladder Of Success (Tell His Story)

 There is almost nothing sadder

(so few things at all!)

than placing your success-climb ladder 

against, yeah, the wrong wall

and looking over at a view 

you didn't need to see.

"What, oh, what, now, can I do,

what is there left for me?"

Well, you have climbed up this far

and made some muscles strong.

so tak a look at how things are

if you're not where you belong,

play the man, accept the pain,

and begin your climb again.

Sylvia's thoughts: "If there's no ice cream, you're in the wrong place."

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The Most And Least Of These

 

 

There are no problems for the rich,

they need not wear a frown,

but this week nature was a bitch,

and Malibu burned down.

The wealthy and their servants

were all one in the mass,

and if we are observant

this thought might come to pass,

that wealth is no protection 

from a world that's wrapped in flame,

and the only real suggestion 

is to hold fast to the name

of the One who calmed the seas,

who cares for 'most' and 'least' of these.

Sylvia would give out free ice cream.

Evangelical Fails (Tell His Story)

 Please, dear Lord, just let us rest

as this brand new year begins.

Please don't send another test

to remind us of our sins,

of how we stood while others turned

away from Love and Grace.

Our shuttered hearts should well have burned

resolute, that they might see your face.

We fear, I think what we'd be called

when You call us to evangelize,

and I believe You are appalled,

and golden tears form in Your eyes

to fall upon Heaven's bright street 

where His hope and despair meet.

Sylvia wags her tail in agreement, but then, she never shies away from encouragement, especially where ice cream's concerned.

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From Here To There

So what on earth is it about,

this starting of the year?

Will we ever figure out 

just how we arrived here,

with mindless hate and ISIS flags,

and fifteen disappeared,

and with their faces hid by rags,

many people cheered.

How do we live Christ's example,

how do we love the worst of these?

Is it normal or outlier sample,

can love cure this disease?

I don't know, but yet I care

to get from dreadful here to There.

Syl agrees, and might even share her ice cream, if it would help.