Fell asleep laughing and hugging Jud’s pillow.
Garrison’s to blame.
After reading Buechner and thinking deeper thoughts than usual, I picked up Garrison Keillor’s Leaving Home and read,
“It has been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon. It was warm and bright and the trees were in full color, magnificent, explosive, like permanent fireworks–reds and yellows, oranges, some so brilliant that Crayola never put them in crayons for fear the children would color outside the lines.”
Laughed out loud.
One holy laugh.
Had to thank God for Garrison and others gifted with words.
Sleep aids, sometimes.
Life enriching aids, mostly. Word artists, gifted at choosing words off a palette of possibilities, paint with dabs of hope, strokes of truth, dashes of wit, dots of wisdom, splashes of perspective.
Words matter. Much of my Bible reads like a diary with dates and notes in the margins. Written beside Psalm 63, “Jud’s final chapel talk at Gordon. April 4, 2011. ” Three days earlier, MGH spoke,”You have three cancers.” Now, it was Jud’s turn to speak. He leaned on David’s words, then lived them each day until his last.
“I lie awake thinking of you, meditating on you through the night. I think how much you have helped me; I sing for joy in the shadow of your protecting wings. I follow close behind you; your strong right hand holds me securely.” Psalm 63:6-8
When life pummels with words no one wants to hear, God uses a palette like no other and paints a way, dabbing hope, brushing light into the corners where we cower, drawing us close, wrapping us with remembered words,” The Lord is my shepherd; I have everything I need.” (from Psalm 23)
God has a way with words.
What can I say?
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