Today I Burn Bridges With My Relatives

Last night it rained, wildly pounding the roof and the gutters. The tree branches swayed and bent and the sky was weeping when I went to the bathroom at 3 a.m. Then, the sprinklers came on. We conserve water here, if nothing else. But seriously though, I wouldn’t want my weeds to be thirsty.

I suppose I should confess that I have nothing important to tell you today. I just have goofy Christmas pictures, and it’s January. But what could be more exciting than goofy Christmas pictures in January?
I don’t know either. This morning is a pretty regular morning, if you ignore the sparkle on the street from the rain. Outside the raindrops are shining and sparkling in an extravagant way, and inside I’m just sitting here waiting for the parade, or the amazing appearance of an important person, or something big. Instead, everything is little. There was a spat over crayons, and Dr. Claw the unfortunate cat has been chased within an inch of her life.

The point is, nothing big is happening inside. Someone just handed me a yellow glitter pen sans lid. It worries me.  Life is full of riveting details. But why is it so beautiful outside? So fresh and sparkly? Why is the moss on my neighbors roof exploding in vibrant green? I would take a picture but the magic doesn’t translate. Just believe me, it’s beautiful. And I can’t seem to catch it, the exciting splendor of a Saturday morning after rain. You know?
At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure.   We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all of the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.      -C. S. Lewis

17 thoughts on “Today I Burn Bridges With My Relatives

  1. an unlidded glitter pen is never a good thing. my couch got peed on yesterday by Caroline during her nap. nice. i scrubbed it yesterday and i think it is okay. i may need to nap on it to be sure.i think i will empty my bladder before i do.


  2. Ah, yes, creation waits, and so do we. I just finished listening to The Magician's Nephew. It explained this whole groaning ache for what is to come so beautifully.


  3. oh c.s… that man knows how to rock a quote. and yes.. pens without lids make me nervous.. only under too much quiet from people in the bathroom too long. it's always the little things.. the good, the bad and the toilet overflowing with all the lids form all the lidless markers.


  4. C.S. Lewis's prose is something glorious. And guess what? You, my dear, have that same glorious way with words. And don't try to tell me different.

    Certain writers have a way of arranging words in a strikingly, beautiful way. When I read lines like, “Outside the raindrops are shining and sparkling in an extravagant way, and inside I'm just waiting for the parade, or the amazing appearance of an important person, or something big. Instead, everything is little.” I always close my eyes for a second to let those kinds of words settle in, amazed at their fluidity, their grace, the immeasurable gift that girl has who sits behind those words, turning them into magic.

    I need to come her more, to see you because I miss you, truly. But also, selfishly, for inspiration. You are incredible, lady and don't you ever forget it.


  5. i'll just have to imagine the splendor. and then i'll try to find some of my own, tomorrow, when the sun is up in all its 6 degrees of Canadian glory (that's WARM for january).


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