happy haiku friday!

the child's eyes brighten

revealing innate wonder

his head hits the floor

dreaming of the day when we are all more optimistic than jaded

"But darling, I wish you well
On your way to the wishing well
Swinging off of those gates of hell
But I can tell how hard you're trying
Just have that secret hope
Sometimes all we do is cope
Somewhere on the steepest slope
There'll be an endless rope and nobody crying.
~Patty Griffin, Nobody Crying

"Well I wish that you could see me when I'm flying in my dreams
The way I laugh there way up high
The way I look when I fly
The way I live...
The way I fly..."
~Patty Griffin, Chief

"And you can't run away from the nagging dark. You carry it everywhere in your heart. It finishes everything that you start. You can't run away from the nagging dark.

How far can you see? Will you ever be free? Through the blackest night, aw you still hold on tight. Hope is your finest work. It's your finest work. Hope is your finest work of all."
~John Hiatt, The Nagging Dark

many thanks to patty and john for providing an unexpected serving of lectio devina. what are some of the sacred readings that drag you through dark days?

little black books

yesterday morning was a revelation. as alex and i winged our way over cape ann, our eyes focused upon the rhythmic surf and sharp, resolute shoreline of new england, i could not help but think of my father.

i was raised in a cradle of aviation. my father recovered airplanes in our two car garage, my brother and i treated the fuselages in the backyard like playground equipment and dad often strapped the my brother and i into one of the two small seats in our aeronica chief and took us buzzing about the oklahoma countryside.

a couple of summers ago, while digging around in my dad's closet for a long-lost first baseman's mitt, i found my dad's log book. on its small pages dad had recorded every hour he had flown and, occasionally, jotted a few notes about the flights. unsurprisingly, my brother and i were his passengers for a number of those flights. beside our names, in his carefully messy script, my dad had written things like "took the boys flying today and they loved it!" and "jeff took the stick today and did quite well." these simple notations pierced my heart. for some reason, reading the notes in my dad's log book made his love more tangible than ever. in that cluttered closet i realized that my father's heart was so full of love for his boys that it overflowed into every part of his life, including his little black log book.

in much the same way, i believe that God's love for us is scribbled, in his servant's carefully messy script, all over scripture. i just wish the pages of scripture pierced my heart like the pages of that logbook did.

a thanksgiving first

after our delicious dinner kellie and bonnie suggested that we watch a movie. the men in the house knew that this was a brazen ploy to distract our attention from halo 2, but we acquiesced anyway. after a bit of half-hearted deliberation, we decided to watch when harry met sally.

immediately following the infamous delicatessen scene, mikey, who is the king of non-sequiturs, looked directly at kellie and said, "kellie, have you ever faked an orgasm?"