dancing really

'Heavenly Father - Thy whole creation, sun, moon, and stars, and this blessed earth which thou hast made with thy hands in all its beauty, and every creature of this earth whom thou has given life, all of them shout forth in joy and praise of thee save only man whose mouth is stopped with words. Forgive us what we speak and what we know not how to speak. Forgive our world, we pray thee, thy world, which thou hast left us free to grieve and break. Make thyself known to all who are broken in spirit or in flesh, and that is all of us. Grant us thy peace, Lord, which the world can neither give nor take away, they peace that exists only in the eye of the storm, the heart of the battle. Grant us finally they joy of the man on the cross. We ask it in his name. Amen.' (f.buechner)

I spent the week noticing the hand-crafted beauty that manages to out-speak, out-pray, and out-worship us. Spent it with a collection of 14 middle class white kids, leading them - along side of two fine fellow wilderness savvy guides - through adventures of all sorts. Dancing really. Dancing with cliffs, rocks, river, rain, mountain, cave, falls, and fire. Dancing with the Bible, dancing with relationships, dancing with questions of faith and questions of fact. And it was a good dance. I stepped on toes no doubt. I'm foot-sore now. But still enjoying the music and the memories of the motion.

The cave is miraculous. It's a different world in there; you forget that this other one even exists, and it's awesome. I wrote in my journal about something I saw in the cave...
'There was a loose rock very evidently and intentionally placed by the creative sparkle of God's attention to the slightest detail and wonder. It was loose as I said, but had obviously rested on that ledge for some time, according the shallow divet made by persistant water droplets. Its looseness allowed it to be moved easily, and moved it was, rather carelessly, though not vindictively, by one who passed by. And that small miracle ceased as a result. Placed with a casual indifference where the water drops would strike it no longer and the divet would be made no deeper. It made me think of the delicate miracles I pass by during the days of my life - the ones I notice, like the fragility and beauty of a young lady's heart, the power and importance of family, the tender and nourishing richness of the created and natural works of God, friendship, and opportunities to love and be loved. It made me think of how much more I long to treat these delicacies as such, to cherish the ones I recognize all the more, and to realize the ones I miss.'