Tuesday, February 06, 2007

...And Who Might You Be?

In the short one and a half years Kat and I have been married, we've been blessed to have (or at least feel like we have) a lot of un-tilled ground behind us that we never had to cross. I've never woken up next to her in horror. A friend and I were talking about that the other night as my wife was down at her family's house with our nephew (who is the sleepinest baby I ever seen!) on the wintery flatland scrub of the Florida panhandle. I love that country, and this one as well. My friend and I talked about what we called the "King of Queens" phenomenon. It's been long in creeping its cold grey fingers into the world, and even into the church. We laugh, when we turn on the TV and see the man full of stupid fancy and ridiculous vices. We laugh, when his wife berates him as a buffoon and his children and neighbors quip scathing sarcasm to his face. I grieve for that man and woman whose lives are nearing the blinding threshold of divorce (something of which, according to Rosanne Barr, "there's not enough... in this country") because he doesn't lead, and she finds fault. He becomes defensive and passive-aggressive; she becomes hurt and lost. They both get lonely. It hurts to think about what they would go through if they weren't sitcom characters, with all the world turning in thirty minutes. I wonder if their marriage is built on eHarmony.com and compatability, or on a promise, on a vow.

And yet, in lieu of company, I feel more like solitude these days - seeking the lonely places along everlasting fencerows and under darkling sky. I've grown to love the smiling sound of the car heater (for more reasons than one) and the dull glow of the dash lights - like the populations of a small mechanical world lain out in numbers. It's become one of those comfort sounds, and I've become the cat that sleeps on top of the clothes dryer. But those places where there are no TVs and no phones, and the night sky rumbles with that faint Delacroix indigo-orange against the low stratus clouds, bleeding light from distant cities and billboards, while the pastures around are dark and whispering with the breathing of cattle and the hiss of wind - those are becoming more of a treasure to me. Not to say that I am so great as to don a cowel and stay there. As you can see, I'm on the World Wide Web. But, ever so slightly, I think more that the Gethsemanes are where - like the word says - the soul is crushed, and precious things flow outward from its crushing.

These are where I might see a little more of my face, by seeing a little more of His Face. These places are where the "why?" and the "how?" become a "who?" and the answer is reverberating next to me as it always has, since Adam, and now, to Adam. And the marriage is built on a promise, on a vow.


and Blogger Jared Lucas addressed the Senate...

I've been corresponding with Dr. Forrester, and apparently he's had enough time or gotten one of his minions to finally get the band recordings cut down and on CD.

Just letting ya know for nostalgia's sakes.

9:29 PM, February 15, 2007  

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