"Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Paul to the persecuted at Philippi (2:5-11)

18 October 2016

Fallen leaves

Oh, hello, blog. Its been a while. My fault.

A memory.... I remember, I must have been about ten or twelve, a hike in the woods with my dad. In the snow. Dad would take us on a hike around the property, 42 undeveloped acres, like a king on progress through his realm. This time it was just him and me. I don't ever remember any other snow-hike, just the one. In the home stretch, dad looked down and saw a leaf, bright red and oval with a perfect point at the tip, sitting neatly on the fresh snow. "Look. You don't see that very often." He picked it up and handed it to me. I held on to it, for the rest of the walk, or so I thought. But when we arrived home, somehow, from my mittened hand, the leaf had slipped away. I never see red oval leaves on the ground without thinking of that. People, like leaves, slip away, too often unnoticed, no matter how firmly we think we hold on.

En français:

Un mémoire. Je me souviens- peut-être j’avais dix ou douze ans, une excursion dans le bois avec mon père. C’était dans la neige. Souvent, Papa nous emmenait pour marcher à pied autour de la propriété, quarante-deux acres vierges, comme un roi qui fait le défilé à travers son royaume. Cette fois, c’était seulement mon père et moi. Maintenant, comme une adulte, cette excursion est la seule dans la neige dont je me souviens. De quoi ?

Enfin, quand nous sommes retournés près de notre maison, Papa a regardé la neige sous ses pieds et là, il trouva une feuille rouge pourpre et pénétrante, ovale avec une pointe parfaite au bout. Doucement et soigneusement, la feuille restait sur la neige. << Regarde. Tu ne vois pas vraiment cela souvent. >> il m'a dit.

Ensuite, il prit la feuille et me la donna. Ensuite, je l’ai gardée pendant le reste de l’excursion, ou bien, je le pensais. Alors, quand nous sommes arrivés chez nous, je ne sais pas comment, de ma main mouflée, la feuille avait disparu.

Ces jours-ci, je ne regarde jamais les feuilles rouges et ovales sur la terre sans penser à cela. Et, alors, je comprends que les gens, comme les feuilles, peuvent disparaître, inaperçus, même que nous pensons que nous essayons de saisir.

18 April 2016

Drip, drop, drat. (A sijo about water and modernity)

Trickle, trickle, trickle, the laundry water down the drain. The machine is leaking. Drip, drop, from the washroom floor. And from no where else-- the pump that brings water to my house, also broke.