5/9/10

From my journal:

I want to be the kind of old man who has eyes that are always smiling; who calls young women "dear" and it's comforting, and not creepy or condescending; who calls young men "son", and there is a sense in which it is true. And the old man that I will be is going to be determined by the young man that I am. I am trying to be a young man that will turn into that kind of old man, and I need God's love.

I need God's love.

And I am afraid that somehow I can't ever be that old man. I don't know why — the fear doesn't explain itself. But it is there.

I want to be that old man, and I want to be the young man who is going to become that old man. I want to work toward it, but I can never remember. Maybe one day out of twenty I remember, and that's not enough. And I'm afraid.

I am growing old. I am growing old. We all are growing old.

Let's have children and teach them to worship God, and then even after we die, we will still, in a sense, be able to worship God on the earth. What else is there to live for?

What else have I wasted myself on?

What else is there but You?

Like a star when it sees the Sun.

Maybe I could be small
Maybe I could be nothing at all, and You could be everything.

It could start slow, like this; as, after all, seeds become sprouts before they're great oaks
Or strong cedars
Or tall pines
And I've a divided mind
And a long way to go.

Yeah, and maybe not for more than a week at first
(And often faltering, and usually confused, and sometimes unsure)
But trying.
Really, trying.

And slow.
And steady.
And crowned with steadfast love and mercy,
And forgiven all the time.

And then, and afterward, always, a revolution in my ribcage.
And a mind being transformed.
And not holding grudges.
And not loving useless things.
And not hating useless people.
And not shrugging my shoulders
Or closing my eyes
Or giving up so easy
Or anything passive or apathetic or cold.

Maybe I'm a meagre acorn, clinging to a branch on an oak that's getting old, and more dead and barren all the time.
Maybe I could clench my fists
(Unless a seed falls into the ground and dies, it abides alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit)
and set my teeth
("Because I live, you will also live")
and drop.

And that could be alright.