In a Glass Darkly

Have you ever seen a photo of yourself, or caught your reflection in a window and wondered, "Who is that person?" Sometimes I see my reflection in the mirror and I catch wisps of the flyaway, carefree girl that I am. Yet there are moments, usually in photographs, when I see the old soul inside of me. Hopefully that means I look wise and thought-full, rather than crinkled and worn down by cares. But I wonder... 

I remember not being very old, looking into the storm cloud blue eyes reflected back to me and realising I was the 'me' behind those eyes, the 'self' inside that little strawberry blonde head. I had that moment of knowing that I am myself. Sometimes we ourselves notice the way the light catches our eyes, or that fine lines are appearing where none lived before. A look we have never seen our pensive faces wear is reflected back in still water, or captured on film. For a moment we see the selves we are, we catch a glimpse of ourselves from an outside perspective.

The realisation, the knowing whisks away with a blink of our round eyes. I catch myself wondering, "Can we see rightly or are our eyes too fractured?" This question came to me first under the night sky. When I am upset or uncertain, I often look to the heavens to put myself in perspective. Planets shine strong in the darkness. Stars' light illumines my eyes and my heart as I breathe out prayers to their Maker and mine. In the nighttime all I see is shadow or—due to my astigmatism—light splayed, spilled, splitting in all directions.

Do my real eyes see reality, or only a fragmented reflection of what is real? Even the glasses I wear to right my vision do not fix the aberration that makes lights star out, especially at night. I hunger for the answer, to know if my real eyes see the world as it is. I hunger still more for the questions that arise when I stand small in the inky night. I want to see, to know, Beauty. I want to catch that pensive look of mine in a photo and be in wonder that that is me, the self I am. I yearn to be. I want to am (if one can break grammar rules in the desire to live ontology).

Saint Paul's words rise up in me; like a clarion call they ring and reverberate through my heart and mind: 'For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.' Or as another translation says: 'Now we see things imperfectly, like [fuzzy] reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.' The Fall is like an astigmatism, distorting our view of reality, of God. Even putting on the glasses of God's word and seeing the world from His side does not change the fact that we live inside the brokenness of the Fall. We see more clearly, yet not perfectly. The edges waver and star, making us blink to clear our eyes. The constant hope before us is that the Fall's breach and fragmentation will one day be fully healed and made whole. As gloriously proclaimed by Saint Paul:

In my opinion whatever we may have to go through now is less than nothing compared with the magnificent future God has planned for us. The whole creation is on tiptoe to see the wonderful sight of the sons of God coming into their own. The world of creation cannot as yet see reality, not because it chooses to be blind, but because in God’s purpose it has been so limited—yet it has been given hope. And the hope is that in the end the whole of created life will be rescued from the tyranny of change and decay, and have its share in that magnificent liberty which can only belong to the children of God!

Time and Eternity Have Kissed

Christmas is not an event within history, but is rather the invasion of time by eternity.

~ Hans Urs von Balthasar (Light of the World)

There are things in the scientific and supernatural realm that overlap—or perhaps dove-tail—and pique my interest immensely. Two in particular are light and time. We are told that both move at a constant rate in the same direction—I have my doubts about this, however. Perhaps this is because I am seeing light and time from the other side, the ontological side. 

Scientists see time as Chronos—constant, linear, measurable; unable to grasp Kairos time—the time that stands still or races by without being noticed, the time of being, the time of eternity—immeasurable. I have noticed that my friends in the hard sciences like to measure things, to have precise definitions or parameters, to place things and persons into neat boxes. From kingdoms and classes, to preferences and personality types. Yet persons are dynamic, able to deviate from a habit or routine, to say or do the unexpected. 

When it comes to Kairos—and maybe even Chronos—I think time is dynamic rather than constant. I cannot break it down further, perhaps because I would be trying to dissect a mystery, to grapple with the immaterial. In the midst of our chaos, the mystery of Kairos steps quietly at first, then loudly announced, into Chronos. The Eternal God Himself entered time. No, as von Balthasar says, "invades" Chronos. He invades more personally still, letting us know that He has "put Eternity in" our very hearts, and it searches out Eternity Himself.

The very first Christmas was the collision of Chronos and Kairos—the invasion of time by Eternity. It is both a reality and a mystery, a sacred moment changing all of history. Let us be still, in awe of God Himself becoming man, of time being entered by Eternity.

Eucharistia

How about Thanksgiving in July? Don't mind if I do...

I am thankful for friends, a beautiful symphony, picnicking in the park, and enough rain to permit fireworks in the Springs this 4th of July. 

Loved having the weekend to clean my house a little, to write letters, and drink copious pots of tea.

  

Reading The Little Prince aloud with Tyler whilst drinking tea and eating lemon bars. 

“Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

 

 

 

 Finding a new Summertime song that I want to listen to over and over again... for FREE!  Listen to the first one called Ordinary Day.

Making mango salsa... And eating nearly an entire bag of chips with it in less than two days. :)

Ephesians 1-3 this morning:  "And this is the plan: At the right time He will bring everything together under the authority of Christ—everything in heaven and on earth. Furthermore, because we are united with Christ, we have received an inheritance from God,  for He chose us in advance, and He makes everything work out according to His plan." (Ephesians 1:10-11)

God is the master Director - letting the actors on the stage ad lib and still having the story go the direction He has for it.

Thought-provoking discussion about evil from Peter Kreeft (digested whilst making zucchini pancakes this morning): Ten Uncommon Insights Into Evil From LOTR. He could have used Harry Potter for his insights as well. 

"Here is evil's weakness: it is limited to power, it cannot use weakness. It is limited to pride, it cannot use humility. It is limited to inflicting suffering and death, it cannot use suffering and death. It is limited to selfishness, it cannot use selflessness... Evil can only destroy and give death, it cannot create and give birth." ~ Peter Kreeft

Talking to Jacob before bed... Just because.

And life's 'daily-ness' is thanks-giving. Eucharistia. To breathe and talk, to walk and smell damp pine, to see colours and to hear our immortal neighbour children squeal with delight (or whine at naptime), to just be for the hour at dawn over a mug of tea... Yes, this life is good.