Beyond Number

When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Refrain
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
And you will keep singing as the days go by.

Refrain

When you look at others with their lands and gold,
Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold;
Count your many blessings. Wealth can never buy
Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.

Refrain

So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
Do not be disheartened, God is over all;
Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.
Refrain

The refrains of life give us the opportunity to count what exactly it is that the Lord has given in this poor fallen world to give thanks.  Do I thank God that the pits of my life are not filled with wild animals or water- that they are actually dry pits?  This is a blessing.  Otherwise, I would be drowned or eaten up - but as it is - it is a place to see Him even higher, even stronger, even there when the world thinks we should grumble and not praise.  It is a place to call on God, and in calling I find Him ever sweeter and able to do those things that never even enter my mindless brain.  So often, I am mindless of His graces, great, gargantuan graces - that lead us on from glory to glory.  Perfection coming through the gack and guck of all this fallen yuck - an opportunity for new eyes that let go of control and trust that it is He who santifies - and calls us his brothers and sisters.  No rouge molecules are here in this old world, and so when my worry makes me weary, He has caused me to remember -- His great and marvelous blessings beyond number.

The Comedy of Death

The Convert

By G. K. Chesterton 1874–1936

After one moment when I bowed my head
And the whole world turned over and came upright,
And I came out where the old road shone white.
I walked the ways and heard what all men said,
Forests of tongues, like autumn leaves unshed,
Being not unlovable but strange and light;
Old riddles and new creeds, not in despite
But softly, as men smile about the dead

The sages have a hundred maps to give
That trace their crawling cosmos like a tree,
They rattle reason out through many a sieve
That stores the sand and lets the gold go free:
And all these things are less than dust to me
Because my name is Lazarus and I live.

I was looking for another poem of Chesterton's and ran again into this one.  As I read the last line, the idea of Lazarus' raising came back to me...the other day I was listening to a talk about Cowper and how the idea of Lazarus' raising gave him hope.  I don't know that the story has ever done the same for me and now pondered these two heroes of mine - I wonder what I have missed in the story.
The idea of being saved out of lamentable conditions - God invites us to cry out to him.

Daily Bread

There’s a restlessness in the soul of man;
nobody’s tamed it yet
You never fail to keep any promises
but somehow we forget-...
You have the wisdom and the patience; we need Your grace to see it clear

Too soon and we take it all for granted, too late and it’s more than we can bear.
So You’re always right on time, with an open hand,
You have exactly what I need-
"Daily Bread" - Jill Phillips from "Nobody's Got it All Together "

I am not sure if it was Jill or Andy who penned these words - but they are wonderful - I love this CD - you can also find it on noisetrade.

You have the wisdom and the patience; we need Your grace to see it clear, Too soon and we take it all for granted, too late and it’s more than we can bear. 

As I reflect on these lines so many thoughts come to mind. Do I mind the thought of crossing lines of sorrow that allow me to see the reflection of His face?  I do. I waiver between fear and faith as He grows the spiritual muscle necessary to stand still at His side.   My inclination rather than standing is often to fall full on the floor in a fit, or worse,  turn in full dart towards the more comfortable, albeit, deceitful and death bearing idol of denial of pain.    I am finding more and more that daily bread in times of sorrow  looks and feels like standing still and eating the pain with the truth that I can trust the Lord and throwing the fear away from me by repenting of my unbelief that He is other than "always right on time, with an open hand."

Catecismo

Pregunta 1

¿ Quién creó al hombre?

Respuesta: Dios.

Question 1: Who made you? Answer: God

Have you ever learned something in another language that makes you take a second look? Instead of using made - the Spanish version uses created (connotating Ex Nihilo) and instead of say you - the Spanish version say "man" and I am guessing as the universal. 

I wanted to add the Baby Catechism to my Itty Bittys Spanish Class - (just barely 3 to 4's )  So I thought that the translation would be something like  "Quien lo hizo? Dios." I always quesiton about teaching heresy,  so when teaching songs, scripture anything to do with God I get cautious and am very aware of my ignorance. 

I love that even the little bit of Spanish I know brings me back to the question of When I ask - Who made you? or ¿ Quién creó al hombre? it begs the question of me - have I also taught the something from nothing concept- with the wonder of all that God has made- it's center stage when teaching little ones. 

It's my goal to do Preguntas por ninos  towards the end of each week - mostly  because I like them, but I  also need to learn them if I expect to not trip over them as I teach.

Turn a people free, and they will produce.
- W. Gage

A Play Book or a Book for Play?

Yesterday, I noticed a new book on my dining room table, it's our family way -

 when we get packages they go on the table

 - as a kind of welcome home -

and the welcome is,  a kindness - in  this home.

I heard about this title from a lecture earlier this summer on writing,

"Never Let a Fool Kiss You or a Kiss Fool You"

It hooked me and now I am hooked on it.  

(Warning: Some content in this book is kiddo, and adult, inappropriate)

I got a great deal on this book of chiasmus,

and great deal of chiasmi are in this book. 

I know my writing continually in this manner is a little over done,

but if done over my writing manner just might improve continually.

And that being said, it's fun and funnily said-

So here it goes, and, I'll understand if you want to go from here.

Of Faith:

Through Christ's obedience

founded faith for life is given;

Given obedience lives

wherever faith is found.

Of Marriage:

State it simple-

Godly dominance invites true submission,

True submission welcomes godly dominance.

Simply stated-

Love begets loveliness,

Loveliness begets love.

An adoring husband loves his wife,

A loving wife adores her husband.

A marriage casts a reflection of God,

Godly reflection casts a marriage.

Of Sorrow:

In times of trouble,

do I hover and cover

and sight losses instead of God?

Or

In troubled times

am I covered and hovered

by the God who never loses sight?

A few journal jots from last night's jaunt in my journal.

Kansas City Finds

The Day is Done
The day is done, and the darkness

Falls from the wings of Night,

As a feather is wafted downward

From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village

Gleam through the rain and the mist,

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me

That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,

That is not akin to pain,

And resembles sorrow only

As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,

Some simple and heartfelt lay,

That shall soothe this restless feeling,

And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,

Not from the bards sublime,

Whose distant footsteps echo

Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,

Their mighty thoughts suggest

Life's endless toil and endeavor;

And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,

Whose songs gushed from his heart,

As showers from the clouds of summer,

Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,

And nights devoid of ease,

Still heard in his soul the music

Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet

The restless pulse of care,

And come like the benediction

That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume

The poem of thy choice,

And lend to the rhyme of the poet

The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music

And the cares, that infest the day,

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,

And as silently steal away.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This little ditty was in one of the books I opened on my arrival home. Last month,  K, S. and I went to Kansas City - for a boxing tournament - K. brought home a belt and I sent home books before heading to see my fam.  While in KC we enjoyed a bit of the local flavor: Arthur Bryants BBQ was delicious and a little local bookshop called Steele's. It was glorious and treasure filled and a bit of a mess.  Our friend S. enjoyed browsing the classics - in the way they should be read- old, nicely printed and bound copies as opposed to those dime store dealies.  I think the owner has a bit of the book hoarder gene, but those in glass  houses shouldn't throw rocks, ...ahem- whoops!  The store's in North Kansas City, my only advise would be don't waste your time in the very back two rows - it had a lot of open theology garbage...unfortunately that stuff sells in today's market - all the more reason to pray  and work for a market change.

The poem is from a lovely copy of Oxford's Book of American Verse... it had me at Anne Bradstreet - but I must confess - the last several nights I've ended on this poem .  I love the imagery ...

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

and how's this for a request for your husband to read... 

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.