this morning

Leaf-green boat skimmed
border where
mud-smooth pond met
rippling air.

And I was glad.

“All countries were beautiful to Mr. Rosen.  He carried a country of his own in his mind, and was able to unfold it like a tent in any wilderness.”
-Willa Cather, “Old Mrs. Harris,” Obscure Destinies

The image captured me: an internal country, to be unfolded “like a tent in any wilderness.”  Perhaps because I’ve unfolded such countries numerous times.  I pondered the image while visiting a class of sixth graders today.  They were writing sentences with their spelling words, and I decided that, had I the teaching of them, I’d assign them to write descriptions of the various countries they carry inside them.  Those, I think, would be quite interesting to read.

But the image also caught me, I think, because it brushes against the idea that most places in this world are wildernesses; that we, “in whose heart are the highways to Zion” are those who, by the grace of Zion’s King, are able to see beautiful things in any country, to “make it a place of springs” (Psalm 84:5,6).   By His grace

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; 
the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus;
it shall blossom abundantly
and shall rejoice with joy and singing.
…
They shall see the glory of the Lord,
the majesty of our God.
–Isaiah 25:1,2

To remember this gladdens me; I am glad.

Make me a captive, Lord, and then I shall be free.
Force me to render up my sword, and I shall conqueror be.
I sink in life’s alarms when by myself I stand;
Imprison me within Thine arms, and strong shall be my hand.

My heart is weak and poor until it master find;
It has no spring of action sure; it varies with the wind.
It cannot freely move till Thou hast wrought its chain;
Enslave it with Thy matchless love, and deathless it shall reign.

My power is faint and low till I have learned to serve;
It lacks the needed fire to glow; it lacks the breeze to nerve.
It cannot drive the world until itself be driven;
Its flag can only be unfurled when Thou shalt breathe from heaven.

My will is not mine own till Thou hast made it Thine;
If it would reach a monarch’s throne, it must its crown resign.
It only stands unbent amidst the clashing strife,
When on Thy bosom it has leant, and found in Thee its life.
-George Matheson

cheese stars

When I was a small child, my mother persuaded me to eat cheese by feeding me tiny stars of cheese cut with a cookie cutter.  When I had developed a taste for the cheese stars, I moved on to regular slices without much difficulty.

Today someone asked me what I particularly like about the writings of C. S. Lewis.  I had difficulty articulating it; hadn’t really tried before.  Thinking it over, though, I realize it is because he also cuts my cheese into stars.   Maybe that’s a funny metaphor, but it suits me.
What Lewis mostly presents in his writing is truth.  And we know truth to be a wholesome thing, even when presented roughly.  Lewis, however, presents it beautifully, and shows so many ways that it is beautiful in itself.   His imaginative presentations caught me early because they are lovely for their imaginative aspects; later I learned to see the truth behind the imaginings, and to delight in that.  When I have delighted in it in Lewis’ writing, I am much abler to appreciate it where the beauty is less apparent, to find the ways that it is beautiful … to move, if you will, to slices from stars.

And the point of writing that here?  Well, perhaps it is simply that I think the endeavor of cutting cheese in palatable shapes is a very worthwhile one, and I hope, by the grace of my God, to be able to do it.

“Oh Lord, by all thy dealings with us, whether of joy or pain, of light or darkness, let us be brought to thee.  Let us value no treatment of thy grace simply because it makes us happy or because it makes us sad, because it gives us or denies us what we want; but may all that thou sendest us bring us to thee, that, knowing thy perfectness, we may be sure in every disappointment that thou art still loving us, and in every darkness that thou art still enlightening us, and in every enforced idleness that thou art still using us; yea, in every death that thou art still giving us life, as in his death thou didst give life to thy Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ.  Amen.”
      -Phillips Brooks, 
       quoted in Elisabeth Elliot, God’s Guidance: A Slow and Certain Light