Purgatory

According to Vanauken, Beauty hurts. I would have to agree that that wonderful feeling that scatters across my being when I see the glorious creation of my Lord is pain in it's most exquisite form.
But why does Beauty hurt?

I bought two books today, well, now yesterday. One is A Severe Mercy, the other is The Problem of Pain. I've read the latter. It took me the better part of a year, but I've read it. Now, halfway through the prior, I was firmly stuck in the midst of that question: why does the experience of Beauty hurt?

As I was sitting in my car, not five minutes ago, it occurred to me. Lewis talks about pain being one of the ways we know we exist. Beauty, (as a form, mind) is purely Good. As we, broken and sinful (therefore flawed, twisted, and not altogether whole) beings experience a reflection of something that is "sinless," we gain something of our being back from that experience. And the feeling, the experience of it, the pain, returns.

When your leg falls asleep it tingles and "hurts" while the circulation is restored. Duh.

I believe in Purgatory.

Sing Hey!

Sing hey!
For the mug of tea at the close of May!
A loon is he that will not sing,
O water hot is a noble thing!

It is finished! It is done!
School has fled, now it's time for fun!
But first, to relax and enjoy the view!
To sit down with friends and drink a few!

For work makes thirst, and thirst makes dry,
but first make the deadline or your hide will fry.
But then to drink, and drink is good!
But burn you will, if gulp you should...

So sip you tea 'neath a cool shadey tree,
and while you sip, please, think of me!
I return to work, but pleased I be,
for on my return, I'll join you in tea.



Or Italian cream sodas... Mmmmmm...

"The Road goes ever on and on..."

"I am finally being swept off my feet."

I thought I'd take a walk this afternoon. Turns out the walk took me.
*****

The crags and summits of natural existence our city parks are.
All the green and growth that our expansion has left us, nurtured by trickling sludge and stagnant puddles of muddied filth.

Just think of what might happen if snowmelt came rushing blue and white through the gullies!
Overflowing the cement troughs constructed to hold them back?
If new springs of fresh water joyously bubbled up clear and delicious in the murky ponds?

What would we do with living water?
Why don't we?

*****
"And whither then? I cannot tell."

Resting in Grace

A statement here
(a question meant)
and an answer set at ease.

As parents laugh
(and I escape,)
with my Savior's soul well pleased.

Goodnight.