Driving to town the other day, I ran into a patch of valley fog.

            Suddenly, clear air and bright sky vanished. I was swaddled in translucent cheesecloth. The centreline’s yellow tape scrolled out ahead of me, measuring time and distance to nowhere. The paved road, grey and gritty close up, merged into mist, dissolving into invisibility.

            I felt as if I was driving down a metaphor.

            Because, only moments before, I had been pondering the process of aging. Another colleague from former years had died. I was uncomfortably reminded that my years were numbered. I can’t know what the number is, but certainly fewer than it was.

            The road ahead felt uncertain, unsure.

Hindsight

            But my rear-view mirror works perfectly.

            When I look backwards, I can see clearly the stepping stones -- I called them jobs -- which led progressively towards more responsibility, more challenge, more status.

            Each one was my rock, my foundation, my world.

            For a while.

            Then my wheels rolled on. I left behind that cocoon and the people in it.

            The road was not always smooth. There were bumps and potholes, bogs and marshes, where my solid footing slid into mush and my wheels spun helplessly. Years where conflict and/or loss splattered my licence plate with mud, miring my identity.

            But there were also lily pads that I danced across. Lotus blossoms beneath an archway of rainbows. Fragile, fleeting joys that lit up the night with fireworks.

            Unfortunately, rear-view hindsight doesn’t translate into clear view ahead.

Wrong format

            I tried translating my thoughts into a poem. I hadn’t written a poem for months, and this metaphor seemed a natural. But the words didn’t want to come. Like a frightened turtle, they kept their moving parts tucked inside a shell.

            Then friend and fellow writer Jim Henderschedt, a retired Lutheran pastor in the U.S., forwarded a prayer by Thomas Merton. Merton is, of course, the American Trappist monk renowned for his writings about integrating eastern mysticism and Catholic spirituality.

            I don’t adulate Merton, as some seem to. (Maybe I’m just envious.) But his prayer resonated with what I had been trying to express:

My Lord God
I have no idea where I am going.
I cannot see the road ahead of me and I do not know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust you.
Though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death, I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and will never leave me to face my perils alone.
Amen

            Maybe my mistake was trying to turn my metaphor into a poem. Maybe I should have tried for a prayer.

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Copyright © 2021 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.

                  To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca

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YOUR TURN

Several readers wrote just to thank me for last week’s column. “Beautiful,” said one. “Warms me up,” said another.

John Shaffer offered a couple of stories of animal communication: “There is the story of a dolphin in New Zealand who guided ships through a dangerous pass, Cook Strait. Great books written about him.  Title: Pelorus Jack.  One time a sailor shot at him and he was later protected by a 1904 New Zealand law.  If memory serves me correctly, that sailor's ship was no longer guided by Pelorus Jack and eventually hit some rocks and sank.  You can read about him on Wikipedia.

            “We had a family story that happened before I was born.  Dick (a horse) came up to the farmstead and communicated to my father than something bad was going on.  Father jumped on the horses back and Dick took him to a place where Queen [another horse] was caught in some quicksand. There was no time to return to the home for a rope, so father backed Dick up to Queen and tied the two horses together by their tails.  Dick then pulled Queen out of the quicksand.”

Wim Kreeft wrote, “Any person who has ever owned a pet knows that they have an uncanny way of understanding life. 

            “I had a Boston Terrier and I am convinced that Blaze was able to smell the aura of another animal, knowing whether the animal was aggressive, friendly, playful or dealing with some painful issue. He also had a great ability to understand human speech.  If I asked him if he wanted to go to church he jumped around ecstatic.  If we were having communion on a Sunday I would tell him he couldn’t come to church today.  He seemed to understand and would sit in his bed for the next hour.

            “In one of my churches Mary would bring two doggie treats with her.  As we entered the church Blaze would make a beeline for Mary.  She would give him one treat and tell him the other one was for after the church.  As I prepared my sax to play for the last hymn of the service, Blaze would get up from his bed and make a beeline for Mary to receive his second treat. 

            “Animals have an incredible way of understanding life and those living things around them.  We as humans could learn much if we allowed ourselves to be part of our world rather than always attempting to subdue it and mould it to our own ways.”

Bob Rollwagen noted the difficulties of comprehension: “Can you imagine trying to hear God in any language when you live in the noise of a dominant Republican family that supports Trump? Can you imagine trying to hear God when you are brought up in a privileged White environment whose focus us more power? Can you imagine how hard It is to have a conversation with God when there is no food on the table, no dry roof over your head?

            “I know nature hears God, it works together and shares what is left.”

Jim Hoffman grew up on a farm: “We talked to the animals all the time -- even had names for our milk cows -- and seemed to have a relationship with them.

            “A few years ago, I'm convinced a sparrow had a message for me.  I was mowing my lawn and my mower had a grass catcher on it.  When filled with clippings, it had to be emptied onto the compost pile.  Each time that I returned to re-attach the grass catcher this sparrow sat waiting for me on the lawn mower handle -- unafraid, looking directly at me and chattering his message.  I was never able to figure out what he was trying to say to me.  After nearly 40 minutes and several encounters, this bird gave up on me and flew away.  I still wonder what that sparrow was trying to tell me.”

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Psalm paraphrase

I see Psalm 25 as us humans reminding God not to get suckered into acting like people’s preconceptions.

1          I look up to you, Holy One. I trust you.

2          Do not disgrace me. Do not let others crow over my humiliation.

3          Those who are sneaky and devious -- let them make fools of themselves,

4          but I do not want to be one of them.  I want to be more like you.

5.         So take me under your wing. 
Protect me while I learn to fly.
Hold my hand while I learn to walk. 
You are my only chance; I hang all my hopes on you.

6          I've been told you don't hold grudges;  I have heard you are compassionate.

7          Don't hold my past against me.  I have done made mistakes -- but who hasn't? 
Except you. 
If you must judge, set an example for us; 
Show us the compassion and kindness you expect us to show others.

8          Live up to your own standards, not to the world's.

9          Then the humble will learn how to handle themselves; 
the broken of body will be able to stand tall; 
the poor can walk proud,

10        because they walk in your ways. 
Your way is founded on love and faithfulness;
those who choose to walk with you, learn from you.

You can find paraphrases of most of the psalms in the Revised Common Lectionary in my book Everyday Psalmsavailable from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.

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TECHNICAL STUFF

If you want to comment on something, send a message directly to me, jimt@quixotic.ca.

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                  I write a second column each Sunday called Sharp Edges, which tends to be somewhat more cutting about social and justice issues. To sign up for Sharp Edges, write to me directly, jimt@quixotic.ca, or send a note to sharpedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca

                  And for those of you who like poetry, please check my webpage .https://quixotic.ca/My-Poetry I posted several new poetic works there a few weeks ago. If you’d like to receive notifications about new poems, write me at jimt@quixotic.ca, or subscribe yourself to the list by sending a blank email (no message) to poetry-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca (If it doesn’t work, please let me know.)

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PROMOTION STUFF

To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols. Some spam filters have blocked my posts because they’re suspicious of some of the web links.

                  Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,” an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca He’s also relatively inexpensive!

                  I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom. She also has lots of beautiful photos. Especially of birds.

                  Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” -- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom (NB that’s “watso” not “watson”)

ALVA WOOD’S ARCHIVE

                  I have acquired (don’t ask how) the complete archive of the late Alva Wood’s collection of satiric and sometimes wildly funny columns about a mythical village’s misadventures. I’ve put them on my website: http://quixotic.ca/Alva-Wood-Archive. You’re welcome to browse. No charge. (Although maybe if I charged a fee, more people would find the archive worth visiting.)