Our glory fades with the flowers
petals wrinkle, then they fall
the colors, all the colors!
we ran once-
now see? we crawl.
The flames of time
they've bled our powers
the sun has torn apart our skin
like old newspaper in an alley
ragged, worn, and thin
full of stories
once so important
which no one wants to hear again.

Does a man end like a sunrise?
Woman fade like evening stars?

Do we end-just end, forgotten?

Or will we rise,
when we are called?

I may be inviting a burning at the stake, but here's a blog post I did for school in response to reading Augustine's account of his mother's death.

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"...my brother said something to the effect that he wished for her sake that she would die in her own country, not abroad. When she heard this, she looked at him anxiously and her eyes reproached him for his worldly thoughts. She turned to me and she said, "see how he talks", and then, speaking to both of us, she went on, "It doesn't matter where you bury my body. Do not let that worry you! All I ask of you is that, wherever you may be, you should remember me at the altar of the Lord.""-Augustine

Monica's death, like her life, was one of no-nonsense faith. She spent her entire life living in a way that would leave most people of modern-day America shaking their heads at what they'd most likely see as her crazy fundamentalism and naïveté (i.e. living with an unfaithful and bad-tempered man, persevering through initial mother-in-law problems, praying fervently for her children). According to Augustine, she went to her death full of confidence in her bodily resurrection, of God's power to find and restore her, and of her immediate presence with the Lord after death. She felt that her mission on earth, the salvation of her husband and children, was complete, and she had no reason to be detained her longer. No dreams of "self-realization", no pangs of regret for not having traveled the empire or not having any romances once her husband passed - she wanted to be "with the Lord". The only request she seemed to have was that her children would pray for her. Augustine ends book nine with the hope that those who read his Confessions would join him in praying for his mother (and father).

That's where my question is. Did you pray for Monica? Do you ever pray for those who are presently 'with the Lord'? Years ago I never would have dreamed of praying for anyone who'd died. I would have thought it was on the verge of sin, 'cause "It is given to man to die once, and then the judgement" - so what would be the point of praying for a dead person? That book's done been closed, right? Since then I'm not so sure. I still believe that when we're dead we're dead, there's no purgatory to make amends for past wrongs through indulgences of friends on earth or anything like that. I do, however, think that I have no problem praying for people presently on the earth, that God would remember their good rather than their bad, and have mercy on them and forgive their sins; so I ask myself, why not pray these things for those who are with the Lord? They're still alive, they're not outside of God's action, they've not yet been resurrected or received the full 'reward for the deeds done in the body' that comes at the final judgement, so It can't hurt to let our common Father know how much we've been blessed by their lives and ask God to remember them for good. I've prayed for dead believers before, guys who've blessed me by their writings but whom I've never had the chance of meeting, like John Wesley, Justin Martyr, Richard Baxter, Francis Schaeffer - so why not Monica? I've been very blessed by her son's writings, which are in large part thanks to what the Lord did through her. Why not let our God hear it from me, and ask Him to remember her for good in accordance with her & Augustine's wishes?

Dropped sudden in these seething earths

bubbles dimmed in twists of foam

side to side or single sway

drink water from the passing waves

til the skin is torn

the air escapes

and look,

new bubbles

swell to fill the gape

the churning of

a living grave.

Shot across infinite spaces
mouth open
not to speak
words have left
and the cords between life and limb
have grown threadbare.
mouth open
an escape hatch of the soul
the roar of dimensions
at the doorway that's distance
cannot be measured in seconds
or metric length
through and outside
to where the winds rage cold
in the absence of skin,
who wouldn't want
to be clothed.

"...neither death"
-without skin
does not mean
without God.

And in a moment
that shaper's voice
who's tight embrace has held you waiting
shall call you out
into light, love,
and the clothing
of indestructable Life

It's 3:51 AM and I've got an hour and a half to go.

This is the busiest night I've had so far, since I started the grave shift. I found an alarm going off in the Science building lab, a controlled temp room was overheating... Could've been explosive volatile chemicals for all I know, called in to dispatch and they called the on-call engineer to come take care of it. Then I found some chocolate covered almonds set out in the lobby and fulfilled their purpose for existing.
Then there were the two inebriated dikes walking their four dogs across campus, and whistling for the pit-bull they just lost. I got their info & let them know we'd call them if we sighted their animal.
Then I confronted a suspicious guy (not really) in a biodiesel truck to make sure he had a work order before removing barrels of cooking fat from Gwinn (our cafeteria) to convert into diesel fuel.
Fun fun fun.
Here's a link to where I work
Seattle Pacific University
It's pretty. It gets pretty eerie checking in long basement hallways and empty corridors at night with all the lights off, no one to hear you scream and all that...but I don't think I would scream, I'd probably die fighting silently if it came to it.
Well, well, it's the first. I just checked my bank account and the amount being direct deposited into it for payroll is NOT right, I hope it gets fixed before tomorrow morning, I don't want to have one more thing to add to my list, :"gripe at employer about payroll mistake"
Oi Vey.
(which I think is hebrew for "my enemies"-I should check to make sure.)
Reading "That Hideous Strength", I swear, or would if it wasn't forbidden, that book gets better and more enlightening every time I read it.

Just got back from my first responder class.

I asked a lot of questions this time. Probably the biggest impression I came out of it with is that Man is mortal. Very mortal. They were describing all the ways in which one might be seriously injured, for example a stab about two or three inches deep into the center line of the body could pierce the aorta, and kill you in less than a minute, or a broken femur can pierce the femoral artery and do the same. There were quite a few more examples until I raised my hand and asked "Is there any part of the body that isn't vulnerable?!" The answer was basically a no. Then they explained (while we were practicing on the mannequins) that CPR in a lot of cases is simply keeping the organs alive and viable for harvesting because more than half of the time with an unconscious, non-breathing no-heartbeat person they're not going to live. CPR by itself rarely saves anyone whose got no heartbeat, what it does is keep the brain and other vital organs oxygenated til they can get a defibrillator to re-start the heart.

All this got me looking at everyone a lot more carefully, how delicate we are! We're like tissue paper in water, just a little bit of hard current & we're torn to pieces. I found myself acting very gently towards the mannequins, they're shaped like people, so I want to treat them like people-especially the chil & infant mannequins, I feel a lot of compassion on them, even though they're not "real". I carry the infant mannequins like babies, and make sure to set them down gently. It's wierd, but I can't imagine acting any other way, I would feel like I was losing my humanity if I threw them around like some people do. I even defended the baby mannequins when another guy called them ugly babies.

I remember being like that even when I was little, I had stuffed animals and I would treat them like they were alive, I would get furiously upset, scream and fight and cry, if someone was being rough with them or pretending to hurt them. I was that way with animals too. Even back when I didn't want to have any babies of my own (when I was young) and didn't see what was cute or endearing about babies, I still felt an innate protectiveness towards them. I didn't really want to be around them, but I knew they had a claim on me. I knew they deserved my help and protection by the very fact that they existed. I didn't like the fact that they were sticky and stinky, but I would have died protecting them.

I would much rather be this way than any other. I dont want to change. I think Jesus is that way too- "A bruised reed he would not break, a smoldering flax he would not quench."

Why do people have to die? I will be very happy when they don't anymore. It's so horrible to think that human beings will be in hell - but I suppose they will have rejected the gift of humanity so completely by that time that they won't really be human beings anymore.

Its so good to know that Jesus will raise the dead, to never die, that people will be alive and protected, never to be attacked again.