Yes, it’s Emily’s 154th birthday anniversary today! I’d hoped the Google Gang would mark the day with one of their short and fancy celebration videos for all us Googlers. Too bad. They missed their chance.
I barely know Emily. Read the rest of this entry »
From the moment I saw the daily prompt, I couldn’t get it out of my mind: Abide. One of those old-fashioned words I learned early in life. Not in school, but from singing a beloved old hymn over and over, “Abide with me.”
Stay with me. Dwell with me. Don’t leave me alone. I need your presence, especially now.
Is it my age? Possibly. But it’s more than that.
It’s Advent. I can’t get out of my mind the image of Jesus coming to abide then and now with us as human beings. Especially in times of distress, change and upheaval. A baby comes to abide with a family he didn’t choose and never met before birth. As a young man he gathers a group of children, women and men, perhaps hoping they’ll abide with him until he meets his end. Indeed, one of them promises never to leave him. And yet….
It isn’t just that I feel better when someone abides with me. It’s that I don’t want to be abandoned in this life. At any point along the way, and especially at the end. Anyone will do. Anyone who will abide with me, even for a little while. Jesus understands this longing, this need for other people willing to be present, to remind us physically that we’re not alone. Especially, but not only during hard times.
And so this old hymn resonates for me. There’s One who is already there for me up to and beyond my farewell to this earth. My head knows this. My heart yearns to see what I cannot see. Touch what I cannot touch. And so I sing….
Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day,
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away,
Change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.I need thy presence every passing hour;
What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee:
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.Amen.
Words: H. F. Lyte, 1847
Music (Eventide): W. H. Monk, 1861Text copied from The Hymnal of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of American, published by The Church Pension Fund 1940, 1943
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 December 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Abide
All my life I’ve lived under a shadow of silence. I don’t even know what to call it. It was my hiding place. A gigantic dark place. A cloud of thunder and lightning. Winds whipping trees in the night. Holding my breath until I thought I would burst. Watching my back lest I be caught unawares.
I began this blog because I wanted to find my voice. Not my professional voice, but my personal voice. It peeked out from time to time, but quickly retreated when challenged or under threat. I loved my voice, but I didn’t yet treasure it. Nor did I see it as a treasure.
I’ve been blogging for nearly three years. At first Read the rest of this entry »
How’s your imagination? Here’s a riddle from Emily Dickinson. Can you guess the answer? Read the rest of this entry »
My magic wand wish for today:
That I could change protest into pro-test.
Would that not solve most of the world’s ills?
Expose misbegotten promises that bode no good?
For a small example, take this morning:
My cheery alarm clock starts beeping on time
My body, mind and spirit aren’t ready to be on time
Yet my cheery alarm just gets louder and louder
I am forced to turn it off and turn over
Don’t assume I want to get up.
Don’t assume what you promise is what I need.
Don’t assume what you promise is what I will get.
I just want to know
Are you and your promises The Real Thing?
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 Dec 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Protest
…as a dream dies at the close of day.
This line from Isaac Watts’ well-known hymn popped into my head when I saw the prompt for today.
When I looked up all stanzas of “Our God, Our Help in Ages Past,” I was surprised to see several that aren’t included in most hymnals today. Without them, Watts’ meaning is changed ever so slightly.
To illustrate, here’s a lightening-quick look at one of the omitted stanzas, sandwiched between the last two familiar stanzas of the hymn. First, a familiar stanza.
Time, like an ever rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.
I hear this as primarily a reference to those who serve gallantly and die in loyal service to their countries, daughters as well as sons.
Yet the very next [now omitted] stanza catches my eye. Watts had something bigger on his mind. Imagine singing this in your church or other place of meeting.
Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower’s hand
Lie withering ere ‘tis night.
I hear an invitation to check false national pride at the door. False pride that believes my/our nation is intrinsically superior to other nations and thus more enduring. Some call this exceptionalism.
Isaac Watts reminds us that all nations, like human beings, are flowers of the field that wither and die. Sooner, rather than later. Hence, the comforting and sobering truth of the last familiar stanza:
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.
~~~
As for us, our life is like grass,
We grow and flourish like a wild flower;
then the wind blows on it, and it is gone –
No one sees it again.
Psalm 103:16 (The Good News Translation)
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 December 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Vanish
Here a short poem from Emily Dickinson. Appropriate, I think, for the second Sunday in Advent. My personal response follows.
To fill a Gap
Insert the Thing that caused it –
Block it up
With Other – and ‘twill yawn the more –
You cannot solder an Abyss
With Air.c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
Irreplaceable loss. The Gap can’t be disguised, no matter how hard you try. Denial magnifies gaping emptiness, draws attention to it. The missing Thing is one of a kind, Irreplaceable.
Emily’s poem reminds me of my vain attempts to ‘make it better.’ Or worse, Read the rest of this entry »
Nature’s panoply
Unfathomed spectacle
Universe greater than I
Galaxies of marvel and portent
Flung into space beyond comprehension
By One who knows my name
Each hair on my head
Each scar in my body
Each longing of my heart
My beginning and my end
~~~
Our lovely musician daughter left a lasting spectacle on the ceiling of her old bedroom—now my office. When I feel lost, lonely or distressed I darken the room, lie down on the sofa, and look at the sparkling ceiling. Tiny glowing stars and dots placed there decades ago, still give off their comforting light.
I think of this every time I hear the word ‘panoply.’ The vision our daughter created situates me in my little universe here on earth, directly in sight of the One who made and knows me best of all.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 December 2016
Response to Daily Prompt: Panoply
Image found at wallpaperup.com
Autumn brilliance fades
Behind misty fog
Precursor of dreams
Conceived out of time
Dying to be born
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 November 2016
Response to WP Daily Prompt: Faded
Photo by Ayten Kranat, found at photofredericton.com
Telling the Truth 