style of a carpenter

Today I spent the day with Grampy Perry. We were making somehing in his workshop, something I had an idea for and knew he could help change it from an idea in my head to something polished and smooth in my hands because, like Jesus, he's a carpenter.
Grampy took me to Wendy's for lunch and we both ordered cheeseburgers and french fries and I had some chili too, and we got the senior discount. We sat at a booth and he told me stories about when he was my age, except he was my age during a war and was fixing broken fighter planes in Canada, and in Holland and England and France. And I'm not sure things were actually all that different, except he was probably a great deal more responsible than I and probably has a greater appreciation for life and family and God, but then, I've experienced some of the brutalities and lonlinesses of war too - a different sort of war though.
What I mean when I say things weren't all that different is that he had friends and adventures and hopes and dreams, his heart beat quickened at the thoughts of romance, and he got caught off guard every once in a while with tears in his eyes when he realized the hurt in this world and the healing grace of God.
My favorite part of today was watching Grampy work in his workshop. He does it so effortlessly, with such an appealing style. such a desirable pace. Grampy lives hastelessly, which is to say he doesn't rush through one moment in order to get to the next. He's one of the only people in the world who actually drives the speed limit, which is evidence, I think, that he is not hurried or anxious, his heart is at rest - at rest in Christ according the prayer he prayed over our burgers.
Watching his leathery hands take some scraps of wood and shape them into something beautiful, valuable, special made me want to live more like him - with the same style, the same pace, the same rest.

nova...

...which means 'new' or even 'fresh, unspoiled.' and that is certainly the way things have looked to me, smelled to me, felt to me today. i am at my nova scotian home and somehow today the colors and scents and emotions of nova scotia were more vivid than they ever have been. it is beautiful and i am at rest. this will be a week of contemplation and celebration - celebrating the family relationships i have been blessed with (while playing with my little cousin bradon today i asked him who his favorite ninja turtle is, he responded, "you cousin aram") - contemplating and planning for the terrain ahead, the 'terra nova.'

God-kisses

They are moments - brief and sweet. Like the other night, returning from our weekly shower with adventures behind and relationships established, somewhat clean, somewhat comfortable. As I was walking to the wild-side of camp, my eyes (for some reason) drawn up and they took it in as best they could. Took in the magnificence of a flying bird. Simple perhaps, profound I think - with its wings spread out like it was hugging the wind, up there playing, dancing, soaring near the sunbathed cloud, all orange and pink, that I wanted so desperately to touch. Heart stopping.
God bless you. God kiss you.

Leaving Summer's Best Two Weeks tomorrow after lunch. It has been a month of pure and steady growth, or is communion a better description, or is it what Lewis described on page 117 in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when he wrote, "that deep shiver of gladness which you only get if you are being solemn and still." But then I suppose, for that to work, you would have to believe it possible to be completely engaged in the active work of the Kingdom of God (whether biking, hiking, or wiping runny noses) while also being 'solemn and still.' I happen to believe it.