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Leaving home this morning my wife calls from the adjacent room, “I Love You”.

Sweet drops of joy are found in such a proclamation.

But, I thought – How can love be received only in word. Where is the deed? I need touch. I need hugs. I need kisses. Something. Not passive rhetoric; aggressive passion.

To give her props, Kaisha did indeed grace me with a hug and kiss.

The thought, however lingered. As I was driving to the office, the airwaves, to which I was tuned, offered a brief syndicated remark from Mr. Chuck Swindoll. Now, I can’t quite give an exact quote, but the idea was this:

- Are you reading the word of God? Or are you simply feeding upon pre-digested scripture? Are you placing your understanding of God into the hands of your pastor? Or on the latest Christian book? Are you leaving the searching to others? -

Old Mr. Chuck, with a tone of rebuke, offered:

- “If you are, you are being spoon fed. You are babes in Christ”. -

Wow! Sharp rebuke, but, fantastic truth.

A conversation I had recently was somewhat liken to this truth. The word choice was not focused solely on time with the Word but more broadly – Time with God (whichever discipline you wish to apply here; prayer, meditation, fasting, worship, study, etc…). The idea was that the responsibility is on the individual. One has to personally go to the Mountain of God. We can not thrive on stories of others going to the Mountain; we must experience the Joy ourselves internally.

All this brings me to Walt Whitman’s final declaration in his rambling poem,

“Faces”:

“The melodious character of the earth, The finish beyond which philosophy cannot go and does not wish to go, The justified mother of men.”

This is his subtle praise to the “Old face of the mother of many children”

He most eloquently succumbs to the truth or power of observance and proclaims the great honor to be found in “Action”. He admires and feasts hardily upon the countenance of this specific woman, but surrenders to the fact the he will never be able to comprehend her experience.

Oh, “The melodious character of the earth,”

We all have our own experience. We all have relationship known only by God.

Taste your food fresh from the giver.

Trek to the peak of the Mountain, alone.

Allow God to touch you personally.

The Beauty of Time

To plagiarise absolute – A thought thick like taffy has been stuck in my teeth of late.

The beauty of time –

This taffy of which I ponder, originated in saltwater form, as my bride and I strolled hand in hand along the coast of the Mexican Gulf this past week. The immense beauty of the elongated surf, gently stroking the abrasive sands, took breath from me and captured it there, in that exact spot, forever. Funny thing is; that exact spot, previously confiscated breath from my lung. It’s offence of robbery is not new. Kaisha and I have frequented these shores many times before. Our spirit seems to ride along the waves.

One such visit took place more than 15 years prior, different in color as well as savor.

When we where yet mates, fate guided us down this same sandy path. That occasion, sewn together within the labyrinth of my mind and the horizon of the moonlit seas, was not befriended by the same circumstance of current.

“We where young…heartache to heartache…” Our lives not yet properly kneaded. We had different dreams – different desires. One of which was obvious on that night. As one of my dreams or desires was to somehow come into contact with her and allow our being to bond. Anything. Any form. Hand to hand. Lip to lip. Anything. How could I leap across the chasm of separation into the arms of unity? It would be safe to say, she was not on the same page that evening.

Funny – how things change. We now have two children and over ten years of breath stealing moments to ponder – but I guess – to tell the truth I still lust after the union of two separate travelers. In any form. Hand to Hand. Lip to Lip. Anything.

Great thing is; I now have the mystery and beauty of time to throw into the mix. We have had many breathless moments, in many forms, in many places – but now - we also have time, which strings these moments together into a tapestry resembling the mosaic of our union. I warm myself under this tapestry as we hold one another together – Others crawl in from time to time cuddling under the warmth.

I say the more the merrier. As long as we walk within the covering of time we need all the help we can get.

So - Response requested -

Do you ever marvel at time? Do you drink from the pitcher that strings together moments, creating a beauty nearly tangible?

Tell me your stories?