It occurs to me…

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” Luke 15:20

It occurred to me in reading this passage this morning that (as I am wont to do) I have made many assumptions about the father as I read and thought about this parable over the years.  That is, being told that the father was “filled with compassion” on seeing his son’s return, I have filled in the details to my own liking and assumed that the father had such compassion from the moment the son left.  I have imagined that he continually looked down the road, hoping to see his son returning.  There is, however, no real support for that in the text, and in fact, one could easily assume (though it would be just that, an assumption) that the opposite was true – that the father was royally pissed off at the younger son and had a change of heart only when he saw the son “a long way off.”  Based on what we know, it does not take too much of an imagination to suspect that the father/younger son relationship was a bit rocky before he asked for his share of the estate, nor to consider that the father was miffed the whole time the younger son was away. (I’ve heard there are people who hold on to things that way.)

The text provides no real insight on these issues.  The father is asked to split up the estate, he does, and the younger son leaves.  The text almost invites me to fill in my own details, so I do. All that to say that there is a lesson within a lesson here.  A lesson about how quick I am, having a few facts, to fill in the rest to my liking, when the truth is I don’t really know. Perhaps most problematic here is the tendency to assume my own details are correct, or at least better than those filled in by others.

Photo take recently in Galveston

“Think of yourself in a concert hall listening to the strains of the sweetest music when you suddenly remember that you forgot to lock your car.  You are anxious about the  car, you cannot walk out of the hall and you cannot enjoy the music.  There you have a perfect image of life as it is lived by most human beings.”  Anthony DeMello, The Way To Love

Well, he pretty much nails it there.  So easy to fall into the trap of thinking about the keys and forget about the symphony of life that is playing out around me.  So easy.

Poem by Mary Oliver. Photo taken this week in Galveston (before the storm, obviously).

“Life is a shipwreck, but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats.”  Peter Gay

Often attributed to Voltaire, the quotists seem to think this is better attributed to history professor Peter Gay.

Attribution issues aside, this hit home today.  I am reminded of a line from Jerry Jeff Walker’s Lovin’ Makes Livin’ Worthwhile – “We’re all livin’ life day to day.  The whole damn world’s just feelin’ its way.”

Indeed we are!  But then, if we admit it, isn’t that true most days?  Which, I guess, explains why “we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats.”

“You have everything needed for the extravagant journey that is your life.”  Carlos Castaneda

I am contemplating this, but it sure feels at times like I packed a bit light.

Social Distancing. Photo taken recently in Galveston.

We’re all islands shouting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding.”  Rudyard Kipling

Sadly, this feels like Kipling is a contemporary though he died some eighty-five years ago. 

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life.

And why do you worry about clothes?  See how the lilies of the field grow.  They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith.”  Matthew 6:27-30

Outside my window are two Hibicus Moscheutos planted in a pot, one of the white variety, one maroon.  They are visible out my door to my right as I sit and type in my home office.  The plants create beautiful flowers throughout the summer, but what strikes me most is that the flowers last one day.  Well, to be precise I see the bud for a few days, then one morning I look out and that flower is in full bloom, as the two in the photo are.  The next day the flower has withdrawn back into a bud shape, and the following day the spent flower drops. 

Granted, these are not the “lilies of the field” in the Matthew passage above, but  each time one blooms it reminds me of that passage, and in particular, two thoughts arise.  First, one day, today, is not only enough, but it is what matters.  Second, there’s the echo of that admonition as if it is being spoken directly to me – “O ye of little faith.”

Bloom for someone/something today.