Felicity: lately, it’s mostly a memory. For the eighth day running . . . I can’t run. Endorphin-deprived, this grounded-for-now body feels loggy. Wistful. S-l-a-c-k.
A run leavens my day; it boosts the spirits as well as the heart rate.
However, we in the West are beset by hazardous air quality due to wildfires. Step outside and nose-wrinkling, eye-blinking, mood-sinking schmogg assaults the senses. Headache ensues.
Housebound, a wonder junkie may forgo her knack for awe, even overlook nature’s wordless felicity.
And while I’m deeply grateful for the roof overhead and walls that keep bad air out, how does one batten down for safety . . . yet keep the soul propped open, the mind and spirit ajar?
These days, seems most everything—most everywhere—is being turned upside down.
Remember the old Sunday School fingerplay?
Here is the church;
here is the steeple;
open the doors to see all the people.
Motion-wise, unlatching thumbs and spreading the hands inverts the building: interlaced “roof fingers” and palms become floor—complete with life line.
Ergo: one steeple-free, miniature open-air temple.
Ancient Greeks designed temples with an uncovered space that housed an image of deity. This required a new adjective: Hypaethral (hī-ˈpē-thrəl: quasi-rhymes with “Hi C thrill,” for all you dear sopranos, reading this post).
Hypo-, means “under or beneath,” and aithēr, “air or heaven.”
So, fellow homebodies under heaven, with our blessedly non-leaking roofs clamped overhead, how do we as living temples—each of us quietly housing the image of God—proceed?
As the runner’s sole hitting pavement depends on friction, so we embrace the chafe of severe mercy. Hard grace. The whole of this whacked-out world is still a house for us all. A house for God. A roofless marvel of intricate connectivity. Delight, blessedness, eloquence, bliss—felicity still abounds.
Perhaps roofless is a state of mind . . .
Amid wildfires and COVID-19, riots and politics, global suffering and local schmogg, it’s still occurring out there, beyond the glass . . . PRAISE, I mean . . .
“The way Psalm 148 describes it, praising God … is about as measured as a volcanic eruption. … The whole of creation is in on the act—the sun and moon, the sea, fire and snow, Holstein cows and white-throated sparrows, old men in walkers and children who still haven’t taken their first step.
“Their praise is not chiefly a matter of saying anything, because most of creation doesn’t deal in words. Instead, the snow whirls, the fire roars, the Holstein bellows, the old man watches the moon rise.
“Their praise is not something that at their most complimentary they say, but something that at their truest they are.
“Watch how the trees exult when the wind is in them. … Learn how to say ‘Hallelujah’ from the ones who say it right.”
Day or night, barefoot or shod, kneeling or running, may we do no less.
What is the gift being offered us now?
Tell me, what metaphorical footwear might you lace on, in preparation?
P.S. If you enjoyed my earlier post on racial reconciliation (found here), here’s an excellent book currently furthering my education. White Awake: An Honest Look at What It Means to Be White, by Daniel Hill.
Daytime low-angle tree shot by Veronica Gomez Ibarra, on Unsplash; Nighttime low-angle tree shot by Dave Hoefler, on Unsplash
Laurie, I love the image of Greek temples built with an opening to the heavens. And I so enjoy learning new words….Hypaethral–“Hypo-, means “under or beneath,” and aithēr, “air or heaven.”
So, fellow homebodies under heaven, with our blessedly non-leaking roofs clamped overhead, how do we as living temples—each of us quietly housing the image of God—proceed?”
I need to sit with that question a bit as there is much to distract me, it seems. Thank you so much for this reminder to “look up!”
Jody, that is the question for me as well, day by day.
Then to make time to sit a while, rapt and roofless.
Joan Chittister introduced me to the architectural tidbit in her inspiring book, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily. Makes me think of you out on your deck . . .
Oh Laurie thank you, once again. Thank You Lord, once again, for timing my reading of these words so perfectly. We are still stranded stateside, unable to yet rejoin our Tanzanian teammates in the amazing ways God is moving among the people there. A pandemic-wildfire-like explosion of roofless worship gatherings continues to spread from village to village- further up and further in! (Oh Lord open our eyes to see our planet with Your eyes- how many wildfires of hearts responding to You would be on Your image from space???)
God apparently doesn’t plan to slow down His global rescue plan because of all these global threats- seems to be quite the opposite. And so we praise Him- from this side of the world, the schmoggy land of the Unknown- the Shadowlands never felt more accurate of a description!
Thank you again, for so many fresh images for my soul to feast on in these intensely difficult yet full of glory times!
Dear Jenell, thank you for the way you’ve encountered the images, led as you’ve been by the flawless timing of God. I sense a divine, almost-electrical charge in your witness as the language of trouble and affliction take on redeemed meaning! What you speak of occurring so explosively in Tanzania offers dazzling hope and vision. THANK YOU!
May God ease your Shadowlands Waiting Room with daily transfusions of fresh mercy, faith, and purpose. Flinging a kiss your way . . .
My first chance to really take in your beautiful words and beautiful they are indeed.
Oh how I resonate with your desire/question of how to keep the soul propped open, the mind and spirit ajar when the atmosphere seems to be fighting with an unseen enemy on all levels. Divine oxygen does expand the hopeful lungs of those who still inhale even a little bit of love, faith and peace during the unfamiliar and constrained days. Our Creator’s Felicity wafts in and we–who are made in His image–see, taste, hear, touch and smell fresh delights and surprises.
I’ve been collecting little acorns lately while on my walks. I know you’ll find this shocking, but I’ve never seen acorns until lately. Of course, they didn’t exist near my home in Amarillo. But, I’ve lived in the PNW for years and just never “saw” them I guess. They are my little symbols of hope. The first one I saw and saved made me smile all day. Felicity.
Dear Carol, it is absolutely lovely to hear from you today. I’m taken by your expression of “Our Creator’s Felicity waft[ing] in …” oh, the gentle lightness of Presence.
And I love hearing about your acorns! Are you familiar with the story of St Teresa of Avila and the revelation of God through an acorn? I’m having trouble finding it on the web, but here is a modern-day telling of a story that is similar to the historical Teresa’s:
“As I trudged through a path in the woods I reached down and picked up an acorn. For some reason in that instant I was transported away from my thoughts and all of my energy and life was focused on the beauty of that acorn. I audibly gasped in the moment and was transfixed. The acorn was light brown, smooth as a marble. The cap of the acorn was perfectly symmetrical and a deep chocolate shade of brown. I wanted to run and share the beauty of that little seed with everyone around me but I knew they would not understand. God, for a moment, was allowing me to see the captivating, awesome beauty of just a tiny part of His creation.
“As I walked on, clutching the tiny acorn I realized that it was likely that no one had seen this acorn before I picked it up. And no one was likely to see it before it disintegrated into the ground. Yet, God created it and created its beauty. It was not a waste. It may not have even served a purpose. But it was beautiful and it served God with all that it was in the simplicity of what it was.
“So that is what I will do. I will continue to live my life completely for God, allowing Him to purify me because any pain is worth my love for Him. And some may see this all as a waste, but I don’t. I don’t care how small He calls me to be, or how insignificant, I will gladly be His acorn.” (read it all here: https://tinyurl.com/y6y9dugt )
AND here is a FB site called “Acorns from God” where people share about small things in their day that reveal God’s love: “https://tinyurl.com/yypr9lc9
May your pocketed treasures multiply and continue to bless you!
Oh my goodness, you just made me grab a tissue. Thank you for sharing this. It’s a gift that means more than i can convey.
I don’t know exactly why it’s touching me so much; I guess I just feel seen and loved.
Carol, how glad I feel to know these words are meaningful to you. Thank you for letting me know. I hesitated a moment or two over sharing such a lengthy response. But her story seems so very attuned to what you’re experiencing lately.
You are an open, insightful, beautiful soul.
Oh, my…. I appreciated every single bit of sustenance you packed into these written arias… High C’s all the way, my friend, who is indeed, a lark! No matter what, no matter what… I keep seizing on whatever tiny morsel is noble, excellent, praiseworthy… Friday night, I was supposed to be making dinner, but I turned off all the lights and sat in my rocking chair. The rain drumming again on our metal roof, (accompanied by incessant sheet lightning and thunder) was the most piercingly beautiful thing I could have imagined. But the next morning… venturing out onto wet pine needles into the gloriously clear autumn morning… paradise restored…. long deep breaths, gratefulness… for it all… for it all…
Pacia, thank you for linking the post with the much-loved “Whatever” verse. What a great connection!
And your words . . . they take me right to your amazing home. I hear the creak of the runners (although if Craig built the chair, that’s unlikely, yes?), then rain on the roof mingling with thunder. I have been WAITING all summer for those sounds!
And then I catch a whiff of the clean, resinous air, and my heart and imagination brim . . . thank you, Magic Carpet Girl.
You made me giggle. Love you… in my life… however I can get you!❤️
Mutual, dear friend. Absolutely.
“Watch how the trees exult when the wind is in them.” I’ve noticed how some trees exult too, particularly our black walnut tree. Long leaves of multiple leaflets swing back and forth in a breeze. They truly are clapping their hands (Isaiah 55:12)! Such a lovely reminder to expand our worship from what we say or sing to what we are. Thank you, Laurie! I pray you’ll be able to lace up those tennis shoes and run free–SOON!
Nancy, thank you for affirming that image from your own life.
Our air cleared enough for me to take a run last night. Oh, such a pleasure! I think my soles were praising as well as my heart.
Love this idea! A praise you can’t help but do when you’re being what God created you to be. And it can be done anywhere, anytime, under any circumstances!
Deanna, it’s freeing, isn’t it. And it affirms how God fashions each of us so uniquely.
Not that my daily jogging compares, but you’ve put me in mind of Eric Liddell in “Chariots of Fire” who said, “God made me fast. … And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”
And then thinking of creation in this context of being/praising: there’s an exhilarating simplicity Buechner brings out that just bowls me over. And, as you point out, it’s so PRACTICAL: “Anytime, anywhere, under any circumstances.”
Thank you for reminding us that praising our God really has nothing to do with our circumstances and everything to do with our hearts. Yes, who we are. Beautifully written and the photos are GORGEOUS! More praise to the Savior!
Linda Jo, as always, I am speaking as much to myself as anyone else generous enough to read along. I do love the way Buechner describes the myriad, ongoing psalms rising around us.
I too love the photos. Oh, to sprawl on a warm cushion of pine needles, eavesdrop on nature’s chamber music, gaze up and up through those lifted branches . . .
We do all live under one sky. The need for justice hangs in the air like the smoke choking us. Can I truly delight in everyone still? Only if I see every single person as made in the image of God. His delight. And with out a pause Praise becomes the wind of Heaven clearing the air and letting us see each other as God does.
Susan, you’ve threaded it clear ’round, thank you.
Jumping from air to water . . .
One tosses her crust of bread on the waters;
Another interprets the ripples;
But God gives the growth, enlarging all.
A small benefit of the fires (that in no way counterbalances the horror) is that we are having amazing sunsets in your home state of Wisconsin. Whilst our air quality at ground level is unaffected, the smoke at altitude turns the sun each evening into a low intensity red orb that could be mistaken for the moon. I could easily do without the sunsets if Pensacola could somehow share the 30 inches of rain they received recently the West.
Smokey, are you perchance photographing those dramatic skies? I wish I had the means for you to share one of them here. Yes, if only we could spread out that healing wealth of rain . . .