It seems that a great way to get hits on your blog is to post lyrics to country music songs! Welcome Country Music lovers!

It always hits me just before sunset. I catch a glimpse of low angled light out the window and am struck by how quickly the day has passed. For future reference, it is midwinter in 2011 and the past week or so has been gloriously sunny, clear and pleasant; with highs in the low 70s… Today I grabbed my bag and sweater and hurried out the door, eager to soak in at least the last lingering rays of light.

My normal perch at the dock was taken so I wandered past to the benches nearby to sit. I journaled and prayed, written and ineloquent and confused prayers to a Lord who (hopefully) will forgive the fact that I spend so much more time figuring out how to word my sentences here than when I write just for him. I wrote something about how the clouds were like careless salmon brushstrokes flung by a skilled painter across the horizon. A lady sat down in the bench next to me, her golden brown dog came over to investigate,

“Sorry he’s just curious.”
“No, don’t worry about it.” I pet him, he’s one of those slightly chubby pets, the best kind.
“It’s beautiful out.”
“I know! And it’s January!” I check to see if she’s attractive, she isn’t. She has a worn face, and it’s hard to tell how old she is. Her teeth are either worn down or she’s wearing a retainer.
“Are you painting it?” (The sunset on the lake)
“No I’m just writing in my journal.”
“Are you a writer?” I hesitate, it just seems lame in this moment, to mention that I blog a lot.
“Nah, I just find that if I don’t record my days I can’t remember anything at all.”
“Are you a stoner?”
I laugh, “No.” And refrain from asking the same. This may explain the teeth. “I just think, like June 15th, I can’t remember a thing from what I did on that day.”

She mentions that she recently read an autobiography by some rocker lady who’d married a famous artist. How she was astounded by the detail until she realized that the lady’d kept a journal the whole time. I say something like, “Yeah…”

The conversation could have gone on. I could have petted her dog some more. But I just went back to writing. She sat there a few feet away from me for a good fifteen minutes and we just watched the sky go dark. I don’t know why I didn’t engage. I definitely considered it, I threw up a prayer for her but retreated into silence. I find myself curiously shy at turns, and curious confident at others. What’s the deal?

When she got up to leave she said, “Have a great night” and skipped off. Can I just say that even though I feel like I may have failed her as a fellow voyager on this earth, and a bearer of great news, I hope with much of my heart that she will be okay. A sweet unrest, maybe.

We sang a song about uniqueness on Sunday. I really liked it Elaine. It made me think about my parents. It made me think that past obligation and whatever other strange dances I do with religiosity there is a hard truth and a soft joy in the thought that my mom and my dad were meant to praise the Lord with their entire being. It’s so far though. My steps are small, but Yours… yours are, to quote Mr. Chesterton, ‘as narrow as the universe.’


~ by justinhong on January 26, 2011.

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