The Mark

You are the mark!

Not some, else standard set.

It’s you we’re to aim for,

Not a task to be met.

As arrows you formed us,

Your quiver to fill,

Then released from your bow

Manoeuvred with skill.

It’s the breath of you,

Carrying with lift, dip and curve;

The darts gliding with purpose

T’ward the one whom they serve.

Fletching in place,

To spin and to stay;

Head of the arrow,

Formed and fit for each play.

Initial design and form, ne’er a change,

On the journey to bow,

Fit for this one arranged.

Fletching and head,

Both with end-goal in mind,

Each one’s journey-story

Determines each one in kind.

Form us and frame us,

The journey, you know.

The mark is your presence,

We’re ready to go.

Breath of life,

When we drop, lift us to soar

Till etern’ly embedded

Deep in your core.

1-2/4/2018

Father’s Day 2017

A father gives life…

perhaps biologically, through forgiveness, by welcome acceptance, with love beyond reason

A father tunes in to a person…

similar, different, unique, valuable

A father recognises…

passions, fears, dreams, realities, potential, capacity

A father teaches…

The 3 R’s, repentance, responsibility, shoe laces, no training wheels, boundaries, honesty

A father models…

excellence, reliability, growth, consistency, faithfulness, sacrifice, generosity, trust, respect, integrity

A father needs…

his children, his grandchildren – those from himself, and those who came (or were brought) to himself

A father loves…

 


 

My father has been all of these things. Some done well; others falteringly; still others because of the nature of his relationship with my mother; there were those that stemmed from his design or own experience; and some of the most precious were those he learned, both deliberately and incidentally.

One of the greatest gifts in my life has been my father. But I’m luckier than most as my dad was also father and grandfather to others beside myself, and those I call mine.

Dad taught me to install a new gearbox and mix concrete by hand (though these were so long ago, I’m up for re-learning). I know how to use a shovel, spade and crow bar (including standing it in the ground so it doesn’t get too hot to hold in the Australian sun). With my dad, I have raised sheds (many a family bonding/dividing occurred during shed-raising), erected swimming pools and dug sewer trenches.

Dad taught me to fill in forms correctly, complete my own tax return, save money, and give it generously. I learned to drive with my dad beside me (and not to wreck his tires on rough edges!). I learned how to check my oil and water (even though I blew up an engine twice), and change a tyre – on EVERY car. I built airplanes, and drank beer from shot glasses in my dad’s shed.

I learned to search out information, truth and lies for myself – and what to do if I needed to find outside assistance. I learned I can surrender to and challenge authority when necessary, and that I will be recognised (and even heeded) when I do so.

I learned that even the unhealthiest of my choices will be respected, and I will always be welcome – even when I have rejected, betrayed and taken my dad’s love for granted. I learned that love has boundaries to protect it, and those that love has brought together.

I’ve watched my dad father those who were not of his own, but were his own just the same.

He has held their children, showed them how to grow to be men, walked them to their waiting life partner, comforted them while they waited for hospital care, helped them uncover some value in life when they could see none, showed them what a loving family looks like, given them a home, presented their funeral farewell, challenged their darkness, led them to light.

I don’t know who will read this, but for many of you he shared his food, gave up his sleep, shared his food, gave his time, shared his food, laughed with you, shared his food, provided his home, shared his food. Did I mention that he shared his food?

My father’s not perfect, but he has been perfectly wonderful for me. And I am exceptionally grateful.

 

I love you Dad!

ANZAC Day

ANZAC Day

 

To

intentionally

come together

for the purpose

of bringing to mind

Remembrance

 

To

intentionally

come together

for the purpose

of relating

experience, history, cost, loss, protection, courage, sacrifice…consequence

Commemoration

 

To

come

in memorandum

of ‘consequentia’

as precedent to

Intention

 

Lest we repeat

Lest we consume

Lest we self-destruct

Lest we forget

 

25/4/2017

How Fortunate

How fortunate those who do not assert to have achieved the power of self

They have space to receive the gift of responsibility

How fortunate to have lamented regret and mourned over loss

These have heard the call to be near another’s side

How fortunate the mild and gentle soul

Theirs will be a gifted inheritance

How fortunate to have been in want for a need

Then the fulfilment of satisfaction or abundance can be appreciated

How fortunate to be actively compassionate

And to receive active compassion

How fortunate to have been washed clean of soul

These are they who gaze on and perceive the Divine

How fortunate those who action toward peace

They are named kin of the Divine

How fortunate when pushed to flee for being washed clean of soul

These ones rule with the heavenly

How fortunate to have been slandered and pursued by lies because of Christ Jesus – the washer of souls

You are those who fare well, who have great joy because of abundant reward from the Divine – as were those who foretold of the washer of souls

 

(Matthew Chapter 5, Verses 3-12)

4/11/2016

What Trouble?

What trouble are giants

The battle is God’s

Working uniquely

Defying the odds

Trust power and goodness

Perfect strength when you’re weak

Sit with spirits of likeness

Allow the teacher to teach

 

Unstable in fear

Brings intimidation

Christ’s victory through you

In obedient decision

Alone in a cave

A cry of dependence

All glory to God

As He shows His transcendence

 

11/6/2016

Responding to series of devotions on David by Chuck Swindoll

The Tree

A tree stood outside of the village.

Few noticed the tree as they went about the business of their days and nights.

But of those few who saw the tree, and stepped aside from the road to look closer, none would remain as they once were.

All who came to the tree saw their names carved into the timber.

All who kneeled before the tree and reached out to touch and own that they recognized their own name on this tree, grateful that they were named there, found they were washed by the tree’s life-blood, till they were clothed anew, white like light.

By this light were these few of the few given to see their gifts beneath the tree – once again, named with their own name.

Of these few clothed in white light, some would never open their gifts, some would open, but never use that contained within.

But a few of these few would receive, open, and use their own named gifts. They would provide for each other by use of these gifts. They would provide for those whose gifts remained unopened or unused. They would even provide for the passers-by, on the road and in the village.

As these few, of the few, of the few accessed and used their gifts, their gifts increased in depth and beauty and strength – and the few grew themselves, in strength, beauty, joy, insight and peace – their light shone brighter with every use of their gifts.

And those who came to the tree, saw their name engraved there, but would not acknowledge it as their own, nor embrace the tree and its gifts with gratefulness, wandered endlessly.

Unsettled in the village, unsettled on the road, and resentful of the tree…

…The tree stood outside of the village, off the oft-travelled road, but high and lifted up on the hill…

the bestower of life, gifts, restoration and purpose.

22/5/2015

The Tree