The Office...Part 2

The other day the guy from my office who calls me Allison walked by my desk. Now the receptionist who is usually here is the daughter of the President of the company, so this guy comes up to me and asks,

"Allison, who's daughter are you?"

"I'm no one's daughter," I replied.

Realizing that my last comment sounded ridiculous I corrected myself,
"I mean to say, I'm no one's daughter here, and my name's not Allison."

"What?" He asks incredulous. "It's not?"

"No, it's Laura."

"But I've been calling you Allison all this time."

"yeah".

"Well..." he says slowly, as though pondering this concept, "Have a good weekend...Laura."

For the next several days every time he would walk by my desk he would say with zest and valour,

"Have a good day...Laura." Or "Weather looks great...Laura." He was so proud...so assured, but then something awful happened. Yesterday he walked by my desk saying,

"Good morning Faye."

He hurried away looking a little ashamed of himself, and I believe though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he knew my name was not Faye. Needless to say, he almost got it right.

The Office...

Everyday at the office one of the guys here at Regal Energy walks past my desk and says,

"Good morning Allison", so confidently assured that that is my name.

I never introduced myself as Allison, I've never been called Allison, and I certainly am not an Allison. I haven't corrected him yet because he walks past my desk before I can get a word in. However it is only getting worse. It seems he wants to utter the name, "Allison" whenever he walks by me now, even if he's just making a comment about the weather. For example:

"It's a beautiful day out there Allison."

"Enjoy your weekend Allison."

"I'm leaving now Allison." etc. etc.

Whatever put the notion into his head that my name is Allison? And how can I put a stop to something that is already snow-balling out of control? To correct him now would seem...cruel.

A Walk in the Dark

Thoughts from C.S.Lewis's, "The Silver Chair".

Jill, Eustace and Puddleglum all fell down into the Underworld after their escape from Harfang. Imagine the dread that must have filled each one as they sat in the darkness awaiting the unknown.

You see, they had fallen into the Underworld almost by accident. They had a faint idea that Aslan required them to be under the large rocks above them, and yet they did not know for certain why they were there, what their mission was or if they would ever get back to the surface again.

They waited in the darkness until a voice came to them. The voice of the Warden of the Underworlds. He and all of his men took the three travellers into the depth and darkness of the Underworld to be brought before the witch. As they went deeper and deeper down, and as they got further and further from the surface of the earth, what must they have been thinking?

"Will we ever see the sun again?"
"Will we be down here forever?"
And perhaps, "We made a mistake somewhere along the way...surely we must have!"

And yet...the Underworld was exactly where they were meant to be. The Prince, who they were meant to save was trapped in the Underworld and they were on their way to get him. Yet, the idea of it all sent chills up and down my spine. There they were, trapped in the darkness, taken hostage by Underworld men and yet that was the plan, that was exactly what was meant to happen in order for them to find the Prince!

How often have we found ourselves in the dark? How often have we thought, "surely, I must be on the wrong track! Something has gone horribly wrong and I shall never see the sun again."

And yet, don't lose heart! Perhap the very reason why you find yourself in strange and unknown territory, is because you need to cross that territory in order to find yourself doing exactly what you were meant to do.

Perhaps Jill thought,

"I have done something wrong. I have disobeyed Aslan and nearly forgotten the signs. Thus, he has sent me for punishment into a dark place. If only I had been careful and not fallen into this hole! If only I had known and stayed above the surface."

If she had her wish, and been up at the surface then the Prince could never be found.
Take heart friends, in those times of darkness, who knows but that it is exactly where you are meant to be. Our walks in the darkness are the closest thing to exercising our faith fully...we do not know what is at the end, but we must keep walking, trusting and believing that somehow that which we are called to do will be fulfilled, even if we find ourselves miles below the surface.

Gardening

Bethany and I have transformed our little dead garden into a beautiful array of colours, stems, and sweet smelling petals.

But in the middle of the garden was a bush that had not yet sprouted any green leaves or flowers. It look dead. It was dry, brown and quite ugly against our fresh little flowers that we had planted around it. I looked at it and was then determined to pull it out since it didn't appear to be living, and since it made the garden look so ugly.

However, we decided to give it another week or two just in case it was still alive. Sure enough, several weeks later tiny little green leaves are beginning to peek out of the brown stems. This reminds me of life.

When we view our lives and look at the pain that we see in them we begin to feel disheartened. We don't want pain to be in our lives because it looks so ugly against the bright colourful cheerful things. We have a choice to either pull the pain up and pretend it never existed, or let it sit there a while.

If we choose the latter option, we will find that it will teach us things about ourselves and who we are. And if we wait long enough we will soon find little green fresh living things sprouting from the dead bush...give it time; eventually it will blossom and the garden will be fuller because of it. And I really do believe that our lives will be fuller when we allow ourselves to feel pain and let it sit with us a while, trusting that God will eventually bring beauty even into the darkness of our lives.

may my heart always be open to little... (19) by E. E. Cummings

may my heart always be open to
littlebirds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

99

now all the fingers of this tree (darling) have
hands, and all the hands have people; and
more each particular person is (my love)
alive than every world can understand

and now you are and i am now and we're
a mystery which will never happen again,
a miracle which has never happened before-
and shining this our now must come to then

our then shall be some darkness during which
fingers are without hands; and i have no
you: and all trees are (any more than each
leafless) its silent in forevering snow

-but never fear (my own, my beautiful
my blossoming) for also then's until

"No single piece of our mental world is to be hermetically sealed off from the rest, and there is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: Mine!"
-Abraham Kuyper

Poetry

This next poem was first read on some hay stacks. A few friends and I had gone to watch the sunrise. We set up our blankets on the hay stacks and then waited for the golden globe of light to peak over the long dark fields of morning. As we were reading this poem the sun began to peek its way over the dark fields, and then by the end it was spreading its warmth on all of us. These moments are poetry in themselves. Here is the poem:

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond
Any experience, your eyes have their silence:
In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
Or which I cannot touch because they are too near

Your slightest look easily will unclose me
Though I have closed myself as fingers,
You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

Or if your wish be to close me, I and
My life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
As when the heart of this flower imagines
The snow carefully everywhere descending

Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
The power of your intense fragility: whose texture
Compels me with the colour of its countries,
Rendering death and forever with each breathing

(I do not know what it is about you that closes
And opens; only something in me understands
The voice of your eyes is deeper than all the roses)
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

e.e.cummings

e.e.cummings

i thank you God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)