Balking at Love and Difficult Children

Lord?

– Pick up your pen –

but I don't want to write.

– I know. –

okay. do You have anything to say to me? I feel so empty of words. 

– Yes. But you can't hear it. –

then open my ears, please. "Dig them out.” (funny - that's the same way one says "pierce my ears" in Hebrew, as in the kind of ear piercing a "lord" did to his slave in the public square as a sing that the slave desired to remain with his "lord" for always, willingly.)

– Oh My Child

My Little One

My Love. – 

– – – –

– Write it. You're "balking." – 

but it sounds so standard. Like I'm making it up.

– Perhaps. But you need the healing. –

Lord, help?

– I love you. –

(– Write it! – )

but?

– ! – 

okay.

– Lots. –

as in cast "lots"?

– No. A lot, silly. –

a silly filly. –

– Pat. Do you know you are being difficult? – 

You're laughing! But, Lord? I really don't feel like there is anything there.

– So, try. – 

– As the leaves turn brown and fall in their season,

so love grows.

Green bud, full leaf, lush color, brown. 

The lush color precedes their death.

Then they fall to the ground and there is apparent barrenness.

Stark do the trees stand against the sky.

This tells you something.

Patterns. -

Patterns in nature.

- I talk to you through the patterns. –

A hawk comes and lands on the tree.

Somehow I have always felt that hawks represent Your special promise to me.

– Watch –

As I watch, I realize that I would have not seen him if the trees had been leaf-full. The "apparent" barrenness of the woods allows other things to be seen.

– Keep watching. –

As I do, my eyes start blurring and I cannot get them real clear no matter how much I blink.

– This is as the hawk sees –

Everything blurs together, except the hawk that I focus on so intently. This is odd because the Hawk is essentially the same color as the surrounding woods. Yet the light hits him differently. And every little movement he makes shows up.

A squirrel scampers by.

oh - I would hate it, to see him catch the squirrel! They are so funny and I feel like they, too, have a special meaning between You and I.

– I know. That's why I won't let it happen. –

He sits there a long time.

– You've long wanted to know what kind of hawk it is that you've been seeing, haven't you?

Watch. –

He's heavy bodied and reddish. As he moves he flies heavily. His body is awfully rounded for a hawk. Wait a minute. Is "he" a "she"?

You smile.

And there are black and white bands on the tail. The tail seems maybe short. The hawk flies out of sight.

I tried staring at a single point again to see what would happen. At first, nothing. Then everything else begins to blur out. Once that happens, it is difficult to regain focus.

Wait! That tells me more than I thought!

At first I thought that You meant that when we focus on You, everything else fades away. But the converse is true – when I focus intently on one thing, the whole forest becomes a blur. If I focus intently on one thing: a problem, a person, pain – I lose sight of You! You perhaps are more akin to the woods than to the hawk. Hawks come and go, but the forest is always there. It is that which nurtures the Hawk, the squirrel, my heart. It is home to that which is dear to me, but it, itself, is dearer to me than all that it contains.

I know there is more to this. Please, tell me later? Thank You for Your gentle way of talking to me today. I feel too stale to hear "longer" words.

– There is no need –

for the longer word, or to feel stale?

– Both. –

ah. You're not saying that the staleness isn't there - You are saying that it is unnecessary. Please help me out of it then?

– I am –

thank You.

– Last word syndrome? –

but I don't want to be impolite...

I'm unsure if I should try to listen more, or if we're done for now?

– Go in peace, Little One. –

2/16

Part of the "more" to the above: when I focused on the hawk and couldn't really see the woods any more – the woods did not move away from me! It stayed where it was, and it stayed forest. It did not change; it did not withdraw. And - neither did I! I was as close to the woods as I ever was.

When I intensely focus on something (situation or person or problem) I cannot "see" You well. It is as if You are far away, withdrawn in displeasure. But I don't think so. Or we could say, "I moved". But I guess I didn't. It’s a matter of focus and how we are constructed. Intense focus blurs out everything else. It doesn't make it go away.

Like pain. That begs for focus. No wonder it is hard to sense Your comfort in the midst of the pain. We focus on it. How could we not - it hurts. And we're sort of made that way because pain is a warning bell for action.

One really funny thing. I've always wanted to really look at the hawk. I got my chance today, but he/she didn't do much. Really, when a hawk isn't moving, it’s not all that interesting.