Metaphysical Proof of Divine Love

Sunday morning on the farm.

Rolled out of bed to this:

Purple martins have actually chosen to renew their lease at our crappy purple martin house, (despite the fact that the sparrows who squatted in it in past years left it a mess and though it is listing in what must be a disconcerting fashion for the chicks). Purple martins flitted around me, Snow White fashion, while I took this picture. (OK. They were probably doing this because they were annoyed and wished I would back off, but I am in a Snow White frame of mind so I am going with that interpretation).

Whusband's flowering plum trees - also listing and not very healthy looking during most of the year - are now actually flowering.

And

I opened this bag of LaVazza, fresh from the Italian grocery store in Montreal. The smell of beautifully roasted beautiful coffee beans was almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. Then I ground some of them and made coffee. Transports.

Happy first Sunday in May to you all.

Stand and Deliver

Wah Wah, Your Money or Your Life!

= Adam and the Ants, 1981

I think about this all the time - standing and delivering, that is. It occurs to me every time life throws some challenge up at me - so, more or less daily. Never without hearing Adam Ant. I'm that age.

This particular imperative didn't begin with him, or end with the movie of the same name about the calculus teacher in the bad Los Angeles neighborhood. It was originally associated with highwaymen - back when crime had a little elan: flint lock pistols, silk kerchiefs - dukes shaken down for guineas and gold watches that sort of thing - no vaulting the counter between the scratch-offs and the dog treats and making a grab for the cash drawer - but I digress. (Adam Ant did look particularly fetching in his highwayman outift, q.v.)

When Shackleton was in kindergarten his class put on "The GingerBread Man". One little girl came to the front to say her line and crumpled. I know how she felt. We all do, but withering at your kindergarten debut bodes ill. The standing and delivering has only just begun. Poor thing.

I have been thinking of this lately - how our lives are defined (largely) by our accumulated responses to these stand and deliver events. I wonder what my personal statistics are. 50-50? Probably not so good. I got through childbirth twice so that's something - if ever there was a stand and deliver - well, lay down and get an epidural - event, that's it. But I have quailed too often. You know that line from Crosby, Stills and Nash "We never failed to fail, it was the easiest thing to do"? It always goes right through me. But of course, CSN didn't always fail. ("Our House" anyone?). (I suppose David Crosby has some special experience that informs that line...) There's an important follow up here - summed up in from a line in another line, what song? "Take it easy on yourself."

Chapter two to this little Sunday meditation will have to wait. I think it's to do with grace.