Choosing from Two, Faced Temptations

Centered Sketch of Centered Sketcher

Choosing Still   ©Glenn Gardner 2012

Cascades of thought tumble,

Tumble, tumble

Through rivered expanses

Spanned by bridge links

Minded, mined, and mine.

A flow not sought

But caught and snagged

On senses tweaked by appetites

Hungry,

Thirsty pockets unfilled.

Alright, already, all right, I’ll write
And posit deposits in quiet pools.
In still reflective pools I’ll pause it
Awaiting refreshings awash
Welling up from living word springs
Cleansing, diluting, displacing filth
Percolating through parched soil
To nourish deep anchoring roots.

αΩ

‘Len’s Coat Of Many Colours

Looking Back At Looking Forward

Looking Back at Looking Forward
( Copyright © 2012 by Glenn J.M. Gardner ) 

Reflections on reflection

Reflex reaction’s reflux

A “been there done that“

T-shirts grab bag

Folded, wrinkled,

pressed for time

In dressed up

dressed down

dresser drawers

Mind’s eye vision looking back.

How so I see me seamy

In this seamless robe of time?

My steamy seamy see me

Identifies my dreamy dream me

Captured crazed captions

Commentaries crass

Bite my ass.

αΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩαΩ

Yet Alpha and Omega

Cuts with no paste

Speaking clarified crystal clear confidentials.

^“ Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me.  Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead,  I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3: 12-14)

^“For those who say such things declare plainly that they seek a homeland. And truly if they had called to mind that country from which they had come out, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better, that is, a heavenly country. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.”
(Hebrews 11: 14-16)

 

 

Familiar Things My Dad Left Behind

Sunset over CN Tower seen from a Whitby computer desk.

I am writing these words on my sister Roslyn’s computer.
It is located in the living room of the “granny flat” that she and my brother-in-law Julian
attached to the back of their kitchen in Whitby, Ontario.
Beside me is the roll-top desk at which my mother spent many hours
reviewing snail-mail correspondence,
sending off loving words and generous gifts;
some in her “buck-an-year” club,
and many others in support of various  ministries and Kingdom ventures scattered around the globe.
Here at this desk I am surrounded by familiar things

"Rhine Castle" by Karl Heffner (1849-1925)

This painting now hangs beside the window
from which I viewed last night’s sunset.
My earliest childhood memories include
daydreams dreamed through my gaze while
snuggled in a family living room – gazing into
imagined worlds within and beyond this Rhine Castle.

Familiar Things Surrounding Me Today
Mementos of times shared with loved ones

Furnishings bearing the wear marks of hours spent

with good friends, good books, and good lovin’.

Of most significance to me are the bound volumes

Volumes of pleasant words.

One such volume bears the title

“Year of Yearnings & Expectings, 1999 – 2000″

in Poetic verse ~ ~ by Ross Gardner.

On page 11 my father published these words:

Familiar Things

The comfort of familiar things
Though times will change,
For time must flow
Still, for these moments crystallized
Exert their therapeutic glow
And tender touch, whose tendrils know,
Not as transience sure surprised,
But from the other realm and range
Pervading peace His presence brings !
“Peace — not as this world
giveth give I unto you… (Jesus)
(Let not your heart be troublrd . . .
believe in Me)” 

 Ross Gardner  (1927 – 2002)
© 12/16/98

"View From My Desk" by Ross Gardner (1927 - 2002)

Now, as I ponder “familiar thing” memories of Dad

The deposits of Person he left behind

The imprint of his Creator reflected

Imperfectly, through darkling smokey glass

A broken palette’s coloured rays
layered down

Upon a cropped canvas foreshortened…

Yet daily,  graciously growing  in gradations glorious.

I am thankful I share his heritage and lineage

And honoured that I can humbly recognize

A fatherly man of whom I can say:

“His delight was in the law of the Lord;
And in His law he did meditate both day and night.
And he was like a tree planted by the rivers of water
That brought forth his fruit in his season;
His leaf also shall not wither
And whatsoever he did
Shall prosper.”
 

Rock Turner’s “Sanguinity” Centre

On a personal note -
- a picture says a thousand words -
- a blood-tie bond says an infinity of words
- a true “Pearl of Great Price”.

Cricket Clicked It Snippets

 

The Parable Of The “Landlocked Lighthouses.”

There once was a state
In the great ‘nited states
That bordered no ocean or seas…

… but that state had a shore…

…that contained so much more…

…than his salty dog brothers could seize.

He nurtured and nested
And tossed and he tested
Those venturesome souls that dared venture…

…on his great ‘spanse of water…

…they’d teeter and totter…

…and utter cries worthy of censure.

When all seemed too ‘willder’
And fear seemed too ‘fillder’
‘Dare hearts’ torn asunder with thunder…

…and flashes of lightning…

…blurred visions of tightening…

…there yet was a flicker of wonder.

All ’round solid shores
There were windows and doors
Showering flashes of crystalline  clarity…

… their flames turned incessant…

…some oiled some candescant…

…lighting ways homeward with charity.

( Copyright © 2012 by Glenn J.M. Gardner )

Fact

Michigan borders no oceans…

…but…

… has more       lighthouses       than any other state… *

St. Joseph Lights

Word

“Let your waist be girded and your lamps burning; and you yourselves be like men who wait for their master, when he will return from the wedding, that when he comes and knocks they may open to him immediately.”

Luke 12:35-36 NKJV

Now . . .→

… go out and give ‘em heaven … → → …

… → → get yourself a Buddy … → → … → → …

… → → and hook with another of His buddies…→ →

…↔…and turn things around…↔…

…←←…by gathering more buddies…←←…

…←←…and light the way Home  ↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑

 ↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑

↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑

↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑

↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑↑

α and Ω

The Son Shall Set You Free

¶  C* Credits -
* the “watching and waiting” sculpture photo was gleaned from a NYC gallery website. I believe they have copies available for sale.
* the St Joseph lights photo was gleaned from a Google images page for
Michigan lighthouses.
* (Uncle John’s 15th Bathroom Reader, page 390) - which was gleaned , as is my occasional custom, whenever i feel so moved ;^)

With Each Trigger Pull.

Reblogged from THISBEATINGHEART:

The parable of the “Double Click”

With Each Pull Of The Trigger

Somewhere there is a trashed remnant of the hard drive on which was stored the final email sent from one friend to another in a decade past. The recipient of that email did not reply,

 neither on time nor in time.

I was that recipient.

My brain’s memory archive contains that unanswered email.

My imagination contains all the possible potential replies.

Some time would pass while the world did a search for the sender of that email. The search eventually ended when Sonny brought back the results: a cold body was found lying in the back of a Jeep stopped partway up a remote Gatineau hill that had proved too steep to climb. Forensic investigation confirmed my friend’s final message to self.  My friend’s body was found with a few of his closest companions from his shortened life. One of those companions was an empty bottle. Another companion was the bass guitar that stood silent beside him at his memorial service; I heard many say he was the best bassist they’d ever heard; he was certainly the best I had ever played alongside. Another companion of final consequence was a piece of hardware that required a double click to effect a double barreled response.
I’ve long since “found closure” for the “what ifs” of my “non-response”…

…and yet…

…I’ll never “edit the draft” of the “invite” that was not “sent”.

The last face to face conversation I shared with my friend took place as, together, we loaded a couch I was giving him on to the roof racks of that very Jeep. The conversation was about eating an elephant one bite at a time. I sometimes wish I had shared that meal with him through to the last course. I am encouraged that another banquet table yet awaits. His passing influence on my life prompted me to reflect on some lyrical words I had penned a few years previously:

The Parable of “Java Man Evolutionary Filters”

Metal was first of course.                                                 Things ground away.
White paper was finer.                                          Things ground away.
Brown was greener.                                  Things ground away.
Metal foil bonded to plastic frames survived well.
A    c o m p a c t    plastic    cup
with    synthetic    filter
beneath  foil  seal
holding  grounds
all  disposable
is  better
how?

Filter evolution midst a green revolution yields little clarification.

Parable of the “Comment Of Great Price”

There once was a person in possession of much individuality.
This person possessed a unique appearance.
This person possessed a distinguishing tone of voice.
This person possessed a distinctive temperament.
This person possessed a discreet thought life.
This person possessed a special way to express themselves.
This person possessed a claim on their comfort zone.
This person possessed a novel creativity.
This person possessed a particular sense of humour.
This person possessed a periodic degree of “me time”.
This person possessed a personal sense of person.
This person possessed a person.
This person possessed a self.
This person possessed many possessions.
This person went on a journey.
This person is every person that ever lived or ever will live.
This person found a “one” thing.
This person is not every person that ever lived or ever will live.
This person sold all personal possessions.
This person bought it.

Thinking about occasions when on the internet I really brought it.

Thinking about occasions when on the internet I really bought it.

Thinking about a “Comment of Great Price“.

Am I really willing to sell my self over the internet as I sit here ?

Am I really willing to sell my self on the street as I walk there ?

Standing On The Sidelines No More

Back in the early days of the internet “Big Bang” , in the mid 90′s daze of Windows 3.1 and dial-up snaily-mail, I made connections with real people via this medium and some of those connections are strong and vibrant to this day.
One of those connections was with a use-net group of budding songwriters that  posted original lyrics for critique and discussion. The group is still active although I do not participate now. Occasionally someone would post a challenge “Write a song lyric about *       *“, a time limit was posted, participants would post their original lyrics, and members would evaluate the lyrics. In response to the challenge to write a  ”Do Gooder lyric in need of a tune, from someone else’s perspective” I wrote:

********************************************
STANDING ON THE SIDELINES
by Glenn Gardner ©1998

V1
I’m standin’ on the sidelines
With an empty hat
On the sidelines with an empty heart
That bears a heavy load.
I’m lookin’ for a signal
From you lookin’ back at me
I’m standin’ on the sidelines
In the middle of the road
Chorus
Vacant stare that’s full of questions
Empty heart that bears a load
Standin’ on the sidelines
In the middle of the road.
V2
I think I’m going somewhere
But I don’t remember why
Won’t you help me get there , brother ?
Don’t you have some change to spare ?
I’m needin’ just a hand up
Just a quick touch from you, brother
Just please help me get away from here
I really don’t know where.
Repeat Chorus
Bridge
Just a quick touch – I don’t bite -
Just a quick touch -don’t decline-
I’ll let you get back to your journey
And I’ll get back to mine.
Repeat Chorus and fade repeating last 2 lines
****************************************

Today I was provoked to think about a comment I had posted as a preface to those lyrics:

“I’m tossin’ my hat in the ring with the following lyrics-written
using the nouveau choix – “METHOD WRITING”- where I wrote from the
perspective of the panhandlers I encounter so often in the city.”

Writing those lyrics was a crude attempt to walk a mile in another man’s shoes. In the years since then I’ve had the privilege to count some of those panhandlers as good friends, especially when I WAS walking in their shoes. I thank God that, although I’ve never walked the median of King Edward Avenue in the middle of 6 lanes of traffic, panhandling, I’ve had the privilege to walk close by and have experienced God’s everlasting faithfulness in so many ways.

As I toss my hat in the blogosphere ring I am soberly reminded that the words I can so easily tap out on the keyboard in front of me are out there forever once I click “Send”. We can cut, copy,  edit, and paste the words before we click “Send”, but once we click “Send” there’s only one way back . 
As we interact with persons let us be mindful that we are doing something that will last forever. I am reminded also that my actions and in-actions  are out there forever.

(BTW – the lyric still needs a tune)

Now -
“I’ll let you get back to your journey
And I’ll get back to mine.”

1 Peter 4:11