Confession

I've been cranky and ungrateful. Much like an Israelite, I have forgotten the Father's beautiful and perfect provision for my life. God forgive me.

"Take care lest you forget the Lord your God by not keeping his commandments and his rules and his statutes, which I command you today, lest, when you have eaten and are full and have built good houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks multiply and your silver and gold is multiplied and all that you have is multiplied, then your heart be lifted up, and you forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, who led you though the great and terrifying wilderness, with its fiery serpents and scorpions and thirsty ground where there was no water, who brought you water out of the flinty rock, who fed you in the wilderness with manna that your fathers did not know, that he might humble you and test you, to do you good in the end." Deuteronomy 8:11-16

Contentment in Him grows with each new day, and I know that He is good.

Latter Days

I started a new job this week. Today I'm off, and I'm grateful for the time to sleep-in, read, and leisurely drink my coffee, but when I'm not busy, my mind begins to reel on things I manage to forget when there are tasks to complete. This place is not where I thought I'd be. I had to say goodbye to Louisville all over again and some days it breaks me in two. Especially when I insist on playing Over the Rhine songs over and over and over. That, of course, never helps.

The Art of Losing

I have been in the process of saying farewell to a people and a place that I love, and I sense that more loss is fast approaching. All that to say, Elizabeth Bishop's poem "One Art" (one of my favorites) keeps coming to mind. The parenthetical thoughts add authenticity to the speaker's voice:

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems 1927-1979