Index of Refraction Greater Than One

(For the light-bending prompt at the Every Day Poems Facebook page.)

To bend the light I’d have to be composed
of stuff more substantial than the air.
Certainly, a vacuum (pressure-free)
wouldn’t do, yet neither would a wall
(so opaque!). Transparency is a requirement,

but even then, I wouldn’t bend the normal;
I’d only redirect the rays that came
to me obliquely. And be warned: by
the time illumination got to you,
it would be coming at a different angle
and we may no longer be on the same
wavelength.

Good Thing I Can’t Do Everything

(For the T.S. Poetry Book Club hosted by the “thoughtful and amusing” Lyla Lindquist on Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing, by L.L. Barkat. Read Lyla’s thoughts and find links to other book club participants here.)

*****

At a friend’s recommendation I read Ex Libris and wanted to write like Anne Fadiman. I heard Mr. Longo at the drums and wanted to play like Mr. Longo. I wanted to turn out cakes like Marcel Desaulniers, sing like Christy Nockels, break-dance like my nephew James, and write songs like Steve and Vikki Cook.

But I didn’t have the goods. Not like they did.

I have the mental understanding that this may not be the healthiest attitude, but the knowing often doesn’t translate to the really knowing—the living, the being, the feeling. For this, I need all the help I can get.

So I’m glad I read Rumors of Water.

Turns out, it’s okay—maybe even beneficial—that I can’t do everything.

As a writer, I have learned when a job needs to get done, there is little use fussing about the lack of necessary ingredients.… This is the secret of the prolific writer. To agree to use small beans and the ingredients at hand.
(L.L. Barkat, Rumors of Water, p. 34)

I first picked up this book because I have read Stone Crossings, and I will certainly read a book on writing if it’s written by the author of Stone Crossings! I wanted to read Rumors of Water because I wanted to grow as a writer.

Yet from the beginning, I recognized that from this book I could learn not only about writing, but about life. This is true of every section, cover to cover.

I didn’t foresee that a book on writing would help me in my faultiest thoughts and perspectives.

Barkat’s “secret of the prolific writer”—using the “ingredients at hand”—is also the secret of an effective, gifted member of the Body of Christ. God did not intend that I have the ability to do everything as well as everyone else. On the contrary, by God’s design and intent, it is good for me to have a lack. Many lacks. “Deficiency” is beneficial.

My refrigerator and kitchen cupboards do not contain everything from acai to zevengetijdeklaver, just as my vocal cords don’t vibrate like those of Christy Nockels. But I will do what I can, with what God has given me.

With that I will not only be content, I will be … prolific!

Satisfaction Guaranteed

It seems too simple.
Could this be—
that my every craving
will be satisfied
if I go after
the right hunger?

Craving righteousness guarantees
satisfaction.
Craving sin guarantees …
not.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”
(Matthew 5:6)

… their desire for sin is never satisfied.
(2 Peter 2:14)

——
Related: Who Fills In the Blanks?

While Running Up Centennial Trail

(For this month’s theme at T.S. Poetry: “Angels.” See the T.S. Poetry Press Facebook page for more!)

Waters gathered from some repeated precipitation
(whether steady snowmelt or fly-by rainstorm)

caused a depression, a canyon’s precursor,
this rut running the length of her

trail, a rut she tried to circumvent by aiming
the soles of her Asics beside it or leaping over

to the other side where the ground was still
the same—fallow and in desperate need

of breaking, made arid by long afternoons
of scorching, self-centered heat.

Repeated doubts and questions pounded, the same way
too much uphill running makes shin splints, fractures,

stresses that make her plead with the regular
cadence of her strides, “Don’t let me give up,

don’t let me give up.” And then, two men
on mountain bikes (whether Specialized

or Cannondale or Gary Fisher, she’ll never
know) came down—it was God’s kind way

of answering—for the man on the bike who came
down first encouraged, almost fiercely, “Good job!”

So the woman kept running and wondered if angels
went mountain biking down Centennial trail.

(Not) Demanding Pomegranates

On a typical Friday morning I started boiling water for oatmeal while Charles and our seven-year-old finished their Bible time by practicing memory verses. They do it out loud, so while I watched the water begin to bubble, I could hear them.

And why have you made us come up out of Egypt
to bring us to this evil place?
It is no place for grain
or figs
or vines
or pomegranates…
(Numbers 20:5)

When they practice memory verses, they say it over and over, so I heard it like a refrain. They say the words in a kind of cadence…

“It is no place for grain
or figs
or vines
or pomegranates…”

… and as I heard, I noticed. The list in this complaint was so specific. Grain, figs, vines, pomegranates. They questioned God and His goodness and faithfulness because they weren’t in a place that looked the way they wanted it to look. They were trying to dictate life. Could that be what made it an evil place?

How I have done the same when I complained to God that I was not bearing any fruit! I have tried to dictate what my fruitfulness is supposed to look like. Lord, what good am I doing for you?! I’m not discipling anyone [grain], people don’t pursue friendship with me [figs], I’m not leading any Bible studies [vines], and we haven’t been on a family short-term mission trip [pomegranates]!

Instead of demanding that God would make my life look a certain way, should I not instead look at my life the way God has made it? Shouldn’t I look for His purposes, for the way He wants to do things?

So I am not in a land good for pomegranates. But what is this land good for? Can God not bring purpose and beauty in cactus, in sage, in dust and tumbleweeds?

Father, I trust in your unfailing love and believe in your perfect plans. Help me not to make demands of you but instead to trust what you are doing, which is always better than what I can dream or imagine. May I have vision to see what You have given and respond accordingly.

—-

This week Bonnie Gray hosts a community of those who share about the topic: “Fearless.” Click on the FaithBarista badge below to read more posts on Fearless!

Who Fills In the Blanks? (Wanting What He Wants Me to Want)

Delight yourself in the LORD;
And He will give you the desires of your heart.
(Psalm 37:4)

Because of Psalm 37:4 I have a wish list:

My Heart’s Desires

1. I want __________.
2. I want __________.
3. I want __________.
4. I want __________.
5. …
6. …
.
.
.

It’s not that I delight in the Lord,
fill in the blanks,
give Him my list,
and then He will give me
what I desire.

I think of it this way:
I give Him the blank list,
He fills in the blanks,
and then He will give me
the desires themselves.

Father, I ask not that You give me what I want, but that you give me the want.

***

(This week Ann Voskamp hosts a community of those who share about Fasting. This is my fast: to seek not my desires but His.)

“Why have we fasted and You do not see?
Why have we humbled ourselves and You do not notice?”

Behold, on the day of your fast you find your desire,
And drive hard all your workers …

Is this not the fast which I choose,
To loosen the bonds of wickedness,
To undo the bands of the yoke,
And to let the oppressed go free
And break every yoke?

(Isaiah 58:3,6, emphases mine)

(On Wednesday, click on the Holy Experience badge below for more community posts on Fasting!)

What It Feels Like

(For T.S. Poetry’s February theme: Red. See the T.S. Poetry Facebook page for more contributions!)

Part of it simmers barely beneath
superficial, like a sunburn
just under the skin—

A spiritual neuralgia that
travels with time,
following the nerve paths,

Insisting on outlining the nervous
system’s most sensitive branches—
down the quadriceps or out to the

Niche where the wings would be—and a
prickly tingling signals the brain
to think of the dove that flies away.

I said, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.”
(Psalm 55:6)

Fruitfulness—Guaranteed

I could stand in front of the mirror with arms outstretched, elbows and wrists and all joints bent at fractal-like angles to simulate tree branches, but no mangoes or oranges or bananas hang from my arms. A branch abiding in Christ WILL bear fruit, he said, but this is not the kind of fruit I can slice and artistically arrange on a platter. It’s not fruit I can sink my teeth into or cut up and serve to my children at breakfast.

So, I wonder and I question: Am I fruitful?

A good tree is supposed to bear good fruit. Am I really doing any good during my life on earth? Am I bearing any fruit at all? Then the questions turn into an odd, whining prayer: … ’cause if You’re going to leave me down here, Lord, then you might as well make me fruitful. And if I’m not doing any good here, Lord, then You might as well take me Home (yadda yadda whaa whaa).

It was time for Bible study with my son, so I printed out Matthew 7 and marked it up, as is my habit. Jesus was talking about fruit again:

“So then, you will know them by their fruits.”
(Matthew 7:20)

… and the old questions came nagging back. Am I fruitful? What is the fruit in my life? Am I of any use at all? When my eyes are off Jesus, confusion creeps in, and the meaning of fruitfulness eludes, evades, and becomes vague to my mind that wants all the answers in advance and in detail. What is this fruitfulness? Sure, I can sweep through the Scriptures and figure out something about hundred-fold harvests and love and patience and self-control, but I know that after that study, I will wonder again.

Lord, am I being fruitful for You?

And then, in the very next verse …

“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter.”
(Matthew 7:21)

He who does the will of My Father, Jesus said. You will know them by their fruits. Obedience.

Obedience, all by itself, without regard to any result or consequence, IS fruit. To do God’s will is to ensure fruitfulness. No need to question. No need to wonder.

It would make a great tagline, wouldn’t it?
Obedience. It’s fruitfulness—GUARANTEED.

Father, I do desire to bear fruit for You, and I often don’t know what that looks like in my life. So I thank You for Jesus’ words which give me solid assurance that, at least in obedience, I know I am fruitful. Help me walk by the Holy Spirit, abiding in You and bearing much fruit.

. . . resolves.

(For T.S. Poetry’s January theme: Resolutions (and Relationships). Visit the T.S. Poetry Facebook page for more on Resolutions!)

The notes are most in harmony
when frequencies are multiples
of one another, having common
factors, never having to
abut, and when reduced

to their simplest, their bare
primes coincide and strike complacent
chords in resolution—thirds or fifths,
harmonic intervals sufficient to
elude tension, being safe

at distances where no ache
inspires desire for motion, no
suspended chord requires release,
no syncopation rocks
any boat. That music sits

content without movements.

But when a song makes hands play

adjacent keys, and fingers have
to touch, there comes an expectation

in the conflict; the suspended

chord wants forward
movement, and a beauty

rises from the song that
never quite

Running with Endurance (How Jogging Helped Me Love)

Two days after Christmas, 2009. I fed my belly with too much lumpia, atole, chocolate cake…

I overindulged. Something had to change. That’s when I started running every day.

We live at the top of the hill, so those first days I ran half a block (downhill) and walked half a block (uphill), three times. Three times around the block wasn’t much. Still, each day built on the one before. Eventually I started running all the way to Oak Valley Ranch Park (a whopping quarter-mile—downhill), around the park some, and then back home (walking).

The momentous day I tried running uphill, I think I was “running” as fast as I walk. But I did it and did it the next day, too.

I’ve been running daily for more than two years now, working up from almost-negligible, to three miles a day. I still go slowly, but I go.

Earlier this year, someone close to me had hurt me. I was angry like a mad dog. That Wednesday and Thursday were the most raging days I could remember. I fed my heart with too much bitterness, resentment, near-hatred (or, if I dare to admit, just plain straight-out hatred)…

I overindulged in anger. Something had to change.

When I jog, it’s always a pray-run. As I jogged that angry Wednesday I asked God my standard question that works for any circumstance. It is a standing prayer: “Father, how do You want me to respond?” When I pray like this, I often get no neon sign, no immediate answer.

But this time it was immediate, in big, flashing neon:
Love her.

Impossible, I thought, feeling my upper lip wrinkle. IM-POSS-I-BLE.

Yet I chose to remember God’s works in my past, and the remembering was crucial. Though I felt the opposite inside, I prayed out loud in faith: God, I remember years ago when I thought it was impossible to forgive Daly. But you did the impossible and helped me forgive in that relationship. I believe you can do it again, in this relationship. (I spoke these words with my vocal cords, but inside I thought, yeah, right.)

I turned left, up Centennial Blvd (the steepest part of my running route). God brought to mind the run with endurance verses. I felt my leg muscles pushing off the pavement, steadily, and I realized I no longer consider that steep part difficult. There was a time, though, when I refused even to attempt that route, turning right instead of left because there was no way I could run up that hill.

But one day I tried it, and it was hard. After doing it every time it was not only possible but, beyond that, no longer difficult.

This brought new meaning to the phrase “run with endurance.” If I would try loving her just once, then, as I build up my endurance, repeating loving acts, then rather than seeming impossible, it would actually no longer be difficult. It would eventually become easy (the yoke of Jesus is like that).

In order to “run with endurance,” I first had to … start running.

Run a little now, and a little more tomorrow, and the endurance will keep building. The biblical run with endurance doesn’t happen at the first attempt; it happens over time, when I run over and over. It doesn’t mean I can wake up in the morning and, if I set my jaw firmly enough with a bullet between my teeth, I can finish any race, whether marathon or hundred-meter dash. Endurance is built up, not instant.

The transformative process is always done littly by little, small obediences over and over.
- Jean Fleming

I turned left to do the steep uphill in this relationship. My first act of obedience was to call her on the phone. A little later, I called her again simply to ask, “How are you?” I kept running up the hill, showing her acts of love, because my Father told me to love her.

It occurs to me that, now, I don’t consider this a hard path. Not anymore.

Father, thank you for teaching me how to run with endurance. Get me started in the areas I still haven’t tried the hill. Keep me going in the areas I have.

…and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus…
(Hebrews 12:1-2)

(Linking with Ann Voskamp, who hosts a community of those who share about Love. Click on the Holy Experience badge below to read more posts on Love!)