Poetry as Reflection

I come in the little things
Saith the Lord:
Not borne on morning wings
Of majesty, but I have set my feet
Amidst the delicate and bladed wheat
That springs triumphant in the furrowed sod.
There so I dwell, in weakness and in power;...

-Evelyn Underhill

Poetry, beauty, nature.. those words showed up this weekend as I tried to write out my "core values." Poetry, really, is a form of reflecting and processing.

I relate with the seeming darkness of "the furrowed sod."

Plus, now that I am in this lovely location housesitting in Los Gatos, it leads to more quiet and more thought.

Enjoyed Marilyn Laszlo who was our speaker at church yesterday- spent her life translating the Bible (and completing it!) in Papau New Guinea. I told her what I liked about her was that she was in touch with reality- reading Donald Trump's new book, crazy about college football, etc. Didn't even really dress like a missionary, definitely not and EMMW (ex-missionary moo-moo wearer) type. I don't want to come back to the US after 30 years and just speak a completely different language and make myself unrelate-able. I can imagine that happening after just two short years away.

I am going to Urbana. I am signed up with the SIM team. Sweet!!!