Welcome to September.
It is the month of my birth, having seen fifty-three of them thus far. September is as blue as a sapphire set in the hazy gold of autumn, striving and striding through fields of morning glories and forget-me-nots.
Today I’m feeling the weight of every season of these years. “Are you ‘experienced’?” Some would call me that…I just call it old.
I was letting my son Colin drive to work, with yours truly safely strapped into the passenger seat. The new U2 record is everywhere, having been released famously for free yesterday. But my 18-year-old son chose today to listen to the Ink Spots recording of “I Don’t Want to Set the World On Fire.” It is a cool old song for the old soul residing in his young body.
I know I’m supposed to be thankful for each day…but right now the days just aren’t good, filled with a dearth of work and understanding. Hope and despair balance on the edge of a two-edged sword. I’ve been aching to write, but all that I’ve been able to pour out in the dark moments are twisted tears and dark verse. I long for a deeper expression. I’m longing for joy and morning and silver lining.
There’s no real point to todays post other than just to express what I feel. I care too much about what people think and these feelings have been simmering for ages. Rage follows the grief I feel and it requires a safety valve, otherwise it will overwhelm and consume me as surely as any deadly disease.
When I was young I really thought I had everything figured out. I learned quickly that is not the case. Life has become filled not with answers but so many questions.
It’s been said that there are no stupid questions…I can certainly agree with that. It seems to me there are only stupid people too proud or afraid to admit they need to ask. But I recognize the harshness of that belief of mine, filled with a limitless pride all my own. Asking questions and self-awareness seem to go hand in hand. If that’s the case, then I am the Crown Prince of Aware.
Awareness is all well and good, but my many questions remain. Usually it’s about this time when I invoke Psalm 33:3 and talk about Bono and God’s phone number. Bono is busy right now with a new project, and God’s line just goes to voice mail.
So I struggle this September day with ‘unanswers’ of empty platitude, and the pain of what appears to be lost. The sapphire blue sky is covered in grey haze, and there are no forget-me-nots in the garden.
My soul is saved by the promise, but still shaded sapphire blue.
“Forget me not, Father…” as You called the tiny bloom overlooked in the naming.
I don’t want to set the world on fire…I just don’t want the flame of promise to go out.
Lead me through this barren place to the valley of morning glory.