Wednesday, March 19, 2014

oh my gosh, Renfrew!

It turned out the bright light was actually Renfrew's hair caught on fire due to the rat in the rafters who dropped a lit match.  The woman put out the fire by smacking him repeatedly with her floppy hat.

By that time, though, the hem of his pajama pants was aflame so he took them off.  When he did, he looked down and saw his own underwear was on backwards.

And then he woke up.

Mrs. Woodbine's house was still there.

 

Renfrew in Pajamas

The alarm clock woke Renfrew at ten past two in the afternoon, though he didn't recall having set the alarm.  Neither did he recall putting on his striped flannel pajamas and getting into bed.  Thus it was in a disoriented state that he got up and peered out his window only to see that Mrs.Woodbine's house had vanished.  In its place roamed several fat ostriches with no sand in which to bury their heads.

Renfrew plodded through the hall and into the kitchen where a woman wearing a floppy hat was washing his dishes.  She turned to him and said, "Your shift's over."

"Say what?"

"Your shift," she repeated.  "It's over."

"Who are you and what do you mean?" he asked.

"You can't participate in anything if you're sleeping, so it's time for your next shift.  You need to be awake for it."  She draped the dishcloth over the tap.

"I don't know what shift you're talking about," said Renfrew.

She cocked her head.  "C'mon, I'll show you."

"Can you tell me what happened to that little old spinster's house across the street?" he asked as they walked.  "And where'd the ostriches come from?"

"Never mind that," she said.  "Here's your shift."

When she pulled aside the curtains and opened the sliding glass door, the light momentarily blinded Renfrew, but in that extreme brightness he slowly began to make out small figures.  They were children, in backwards underwear, chasing one another in the yard.

  

Sunday, March 9, 2014

composition 23


Hand in the hole of the cobra
Wolf playing with the gentle lamb
Hand in the hole of the cobra
Leopard sleeping with the little goat

Oh, bring this heav'n to us

Love like a river through me
Washing away impurities

I love how You rescue me

Hand in the hole of the cobra
Wolf playing with the gentle lamb
Hand in the hole of the cobra
Leopard sleeping with the little goat

When dry bones rise to dance
What wonders we'll see
Dream, dream
Dream

I love how You rescue me

 

Friday, March 7, 2014

like rain

Grace falls like rain.  It pours.  Drenches me, soaks my heart—this heart that beats without any help from me.

I was knit in my mother's womb and I don't remember when this heart first began its pumping.  The Rain had been falling long before.

Grace doesn't measure me, but transforms me by renewal while I press on through struggle or heartache or happy moments.  Yes, it's this I get to participate in—acceptance of you and me.  Us.

And when I fail there is only all the more Grace, in musical silence, whispering love.

I am cherished.

I am chosen.




 

 
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