Writing | Telling the Truth

June 26, 2015

The Apple Tree

What kind of tree am I? I don’t know for sure. I’d like to be a poem tree. Reaching out and up to the heavens, blown by the wind of God’s Spirit, sheltering birds, bearing fruit, sinking my roots deep into the ground, soaking up water, thriving in sometimes hostile circumstances. The kind of tree Psalm 1 describes.

A tree planted by living water
That brings forth its fruit in its season.
Its leaves don’t wither;
Whatever it does, it prospers.

Something like that. I don’t think there’s a blueprint, or that I would look like every other tree.

Poem trees—surely you’ve seen one—don’t have just one way of communicating. Yet their impact is simple. They point (like a good sermon or lesson) to the inexplicable. The way a life sometimes can.

This brings to mind Jesus Christ. Not just as a human being and God’s beloved son-child, but as a tree. What kind of tree was he?

Maybe he was a poem tree. Able to point with ordinary words to the inexpressible, to what we discern through and beyond spoken or written words. The truth about God and about us. Grand, yet simple.

As simple and grand as a common, ordinary apple tree. Known and loved worldwide. Dependable, not full of exotic promises about heavenly hybrids that may offer curb appeal, but end up being a disappointment. Just another pretty ad.

Jesus Christ the Apple Tree. I first heard this song in the 1980s when I was studying theology. The lyrics captivated me. I can’t be Jesus Christ the apple tree. Nonetheless, as a poem tree I want to bear a small resemblance to the simple, poetic significance of this one life. I also want to rest a while, a very long while, beneath its shade.

To hear a performance of Elizabeth Poston’s haunting tune, click here. It takes only 2 minutes, 42 seconds. Well worth a listen!

Jesus Christ the Apple Tree

The tree of life my soul hath seen
Laden with fruit and always green
The tree of life my soul hath seen
Laden with fruit and always green
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the apple tree

His beauty doth all things excel
By faith I know but ne’er can tell
His beauty doth all things excel
By faith I know but ne’er can tell
The glory which I now can see
In Jesus Christ the apple tree.

For happiness I long have sought
And pleasure dearly I have bought
For happiness I long have sought
And pleasure dearly I have bought
I missed of all but now I see
‘Tis found in Christ the apple tree.

I’m weary with my former toil
Here I will sit and rest a while
I’m weary with my former toil
Here I will sit and rest a while
Under the shadow I will be
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree.

This fruit does make my soul to thrive
It keeps my dying faith alive
This fruit does make my soul to thrive
It keeps my dying faith alive
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the apple tree.

* * *

Lyrics published in Divine Hymns and Spiritual Songs in 1797,
written by Joshua Smith/William Northup
Tune by Elizabeth Poston, 1905-1987, sung here by
The Choir of King’s College, Cambridge, about 1993.

June 18, 2015

Early Marriage | Photos 1967

Time for a break and a little fun. We’re in our second year of marriage, enjoying a visit from D’s Mom. In the photo above D and I are sitting behind a charcoal kiln. We’re somewhere in the area around Boston and the North Shore. D’s Mom took the photo. The pictures below include brief comments on fashion. Mine, of course. Since this photo isn’t particularly fashionable, please keep moving along…. Read the rest of this entry »

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June 18, 2015

Dear Readers | Kickback

I know ‘kickback’ isn’t exactly the right word. But it captures how I’ve been feeling today after posting For the Child’s Sake. I’ve been having stomach punches.

Not literally, but psychically. In my mind and my emotions. Second guessing. Fearful that I’ve said too much. That the wrong people will take it the wrong way.

None of this, mind you, is rational. It’s my hyper-sensitive reaction to speaking truth that’s deeply personal to me.

I’ve had this reaction before. So many times I can’t even count them. In the classroom, in small groups, in one-on-one conversations, and when I make my writing public. Especially if it’s about a sensitive topic. Which, in my world, could be anything at all—especially if it’s about me or people I know.

I’m hyper-vigilant. This means, given the content of my Divide and Conquer post, it takes a massive effort to speak truth forthrightly. And then close my mouth.

I’d much rather word-smith every statement with explanations that eventually deprive what I’ve said of its power to convey truth.

So I spent most of this afternoon ruminating about the post. Running scenarios in my mind about what might happen if the ‘wrong’ people read it, or if I’m ‘wrong’ in my account of what happened.

Yet it isn’t about accuracy or logic or sane precautions. It’s about the habits of my mind that conjure up worst-case scenarios, realistic and unrealistic. They didn’t just show up one day on their own. They’ve been with me since I was a child, and may have helped me survive back then.

Now, however, these habits often work against me. I don’t want people to take offence at what I write. Yet in the end, it may not be clear exactly what I’m trying to communicate.

It’s difficult to be clear, and then let my words sit there. Not softened or ratcheted down. Not edited for niceness to avoid offending people who may take me to task or simply disagree with me and write me off.

So that’s the stew I’ve been working on all afternoon. I think it’s a sign that what I wrote in that post matters deeply to me. Especially because I’ve been there, too. A child in need of an adult ally.

Here’s the bottom line for now. I know I’m a highly sensitive person. I won’t always have another highly sensitive person around to help me through my doubts and fears. This suggests I must be my own adult ally. The sensitive child in me (yes, she’s still there!) needs this ally. So does the sensitive adult woman who’s typing these words right now.

Thanks for listening.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 June 2015

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June 17, 2015

For the Child’s Sake

Recently D and I found ourselves witnessing an adult’s meltdown. We got involved. The emergency situation went on for several hours. Were we ready? Sort of. So for my sake if nothing else, here are some thoughts about showing up when things aren’t going well, especially when a child is involved. Read the rest of this entry »

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June 16, 2015

Divide and Conquer

There’s a familiar battle going on in me today. It isn’t primarily political or religious. It’s personal. A battle of voices.

It’s been raging ever since I sat down to write. Which makes me wonder Read the rest of this entry »

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June 13, 2015

the mouth of a labyrinth | Simone Weil

I’ve read this striking quote from philosopher Simone Weil many times, but haven’t known how to describe what it looks like. Here’s the quote, reformatted for easier reading, and edited with feminine pronouns. I think this could be about me. Maybe about you, too? Read the rest of this entry »

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June 12, 2015

Early Marriage | Part 17

My Favorite Childhood Spot for Getting Away

I’ve sometimes wondered how I could spend the rest of my life with D. Not because I hated him, but because we’re so different from each other. Not in seemingly minor ways, but in major ways that being in love tended to obscure or deny.

Overall, my best survival instinct Read the rest of this entry »

June 7, 2015

Grey Evening Sky

It’s already early evening, and it seems I haven’t accomplished much of anything today. In fact, I seem to have gone backwards when it comes to getting things done. For example, I started writing a post for tomorrow and then abandoned it. Now the day is almost over and I’m not sure what it was all about. My comments follow Amy’s poem.

Grey Evening Sky

Thy day is almost done;
How few the victories won;
How slow thy crawl, thou who didst hope to fly!
Thou who has often told
Of shining, heavenly gold,
How grey thine evening sky!
Why art thou thus, merely a cumberer?
Was ever broken vessel emptier?

Be still, mine enemy;
I hear another word:
“Make melody
With music of the heart
Unto thy Lord.”

Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes: The Collected Poems of Amy Carmichael, p. 329;
© 1999, The Dohnavur Fellowship, published by Christian Literature Crusade.
First published in Fragments That Remain (compiled by Bee Trehane) 1987

This poem hits close to home. I know about my internal voice that comes out of the woodwork to judge me harshly, putting me down. It seems Amy also knows a thing or two about this. In the opening stanza of the poem she seems to be taunting herself. She seems to believe she’s useless. Or worse, a cumberer.

Here’s my version of what her internal voice says:

You’re nothing but a pile of stinking you-know-what, smack in the middle of the path.
Can’t you see you’re an annoying hindrance to people who are going places and doing things that are really important?
You’re a burden! Definitely more trouble than you’re worth.
Just look at you! You’re supposed to be part of God’s great plan to bring beautiful blessings to all these people around you, and you’re totally empty. As empty and useless as a broken flower vase.
In fact, you’re good for nothing but to be thrown out!

Whose voice is this? It seems to be the enemy’s voice. It’s clearly enemy-like. Yet in fact, it’s most likely Amy’s assessment of herself and her day.

I think her use of “thy” and “thou” means she’s talking to and about herself. Perhaps as though she were judging her day instead of leaving that to God? In any case, her assessment is anything but positive. Whatever this day was supposed to be about, she has made a royal mess of it.

Thankfully, her internal voice gets interrupted: “Be still, mine enemy.” In its place, Amy hears a gracious, inviting word that offers another way to end the day. Sing! Make melody!

Early last week I was at loose ends. I felt like a cumberer, a burden to myself and to everyone else around me. Drifting along, not knowing what to do with myself. On a slow ride down the hill to despair.

My internal voice got going. Since I was alone in the house, I began singing one of my favorite hymns out loud. In short order, tears followed.

My heart started melting. I thought about family members and friends who’ve been faithful to me over the years. Not in spite of, but along with seeing the chips and cracks in me. Not as God sees them, but the way we see and know each other as God’s human creatures. Making our way as best we can, forgiving and being patient with one another, making music of the heart together.

Music isn’t a magic cure. The grey evening sky, whether caused by me or not, still descends from time to time.

I’m grateful for Amy Carmichael’s self-reflective poetry. It helps me put some of this into words that heal and give me hope. It also helps me connect with God who gives me one day at a time, no matter how I feel about myself.

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June 2, 2015

Playing to Win or to Lose?

I’ve never been one to volunteer for competitive games. Not because I’m a shy girl, but because I don’t want to look like a fool. Which means I don’t want to lose.

Furthermore, if I win, Read the rest of this entry »