what i mean to live

It dawned on me recently that one of the reasons I love to read so much is that I often find myself wandering blissfully through the words, hand-in-hand with the author who somehow manages to perfectly say what I mean to say but can't express. I will be lost in the ardent confusion of my thoughts, struggling to make myself understood, and then suddenly I stumble across a page or a sentence and discover a Cyrano behind the bushes of my mind. And it is those authors who become my favorites -- the ones whome I read and find myself exclaiming, "Yes, that's it exactly! That's what I mean!" George MacDonald is my favorite author for this very reason: I'm continually amazed at the multitude of ways he manages to express my deepest emotions and thoughts and fears and prayers.

Sometimes this phenomenon works in reverse: I will read a sentence or paragraph and find myself tripping over the magnitude of thoughts I never even imagined before. And rather than finding words to express my life, I'm faced with words that my life should express, but doesn't. Such a surprise came to me while reading this in The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis:

You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations -- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit -- immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.

Wow. It's one thing to tell yourself "Jesus loves everyone." But it's quite another to think of every person you meet as an immortal... and that's a new thought for me. The homeless man outside 7-11. The checkout clerk at Safeway. The driver who always cuts me off when exiting the freeway. The next-door neighbor who wakes me up with his leaf blower every morning. I try to live every day with a view that Jesus died for all these people, that He loves them just as much as He loves me, but I have to confess how often I find myself failing in that regard, or catch myself thinking I'm better than others or more deserving of my salvation because of the life I've lived. Clearly, when I tell myself and others that "Jesus died for them, too," it's just not saying what I really mean. If it were, I think I'd behave differently. I'd work harder to share that message with others, because there's no question they will live forever. It's only a question of where.

You have never talked to a mere mortal... now that certainly puts your life into proper perspective. While I continue to explore all the wonderful words that say what I mean, I hope I can live and mean what these words say.

the orange balloon

Was it the sunshine
the beautiful morning
that made you dance that way
Was it the singing
the birds' sweet harmony
that made you smile

I heard your laughter
and longed for more
Nothing different from the day before
nothing wrong

You were drifting lighter than air
dancing with the wind
This grown-up world
was somewhere in the distance

Where was the sunshine
the beautiful morning
when anger exploded that day
There was no singing
no tender harmony
while you cried
while you died

You were everything to me
how I tried to hold on
But I'm not as strong as the wind
just not strong

And now the sunshine
the heavenly morning
shines upon a small grave
And now the churchbells
the solemn harmony
sing you a lullaby

You were not the only one
no, I'm not the only one
to feel this pain
I don't want to let go
but I know you've gone home
to wait for me

You are drifting lighter than air
dancing with the wind
And I see you
smiling... in the distance


Written after the massacre of schoolchildren in Dunblane, Scotland on March 13, 1996. Posted here in memory of my niece, Aubrey Faith... blessed with imperfection, she was too perfect for this fallen world.