On Bumper Stickers and Epistles

On a play of Tolkein's comment about wizards comes this entertaining bumper sticker. I saw it walking back from my vehicle to the office. I had to stop and laugh. Yes, I suppose I am a bit crunchy, though I've never thought of it before. Crunchy in several ways - yes, me bones are! I've even sensed the crunch of one or two of them in my 30 years. But, I'm also crunchy in the sense of certain candies or insectae: hard, boiled solid on the outside, but quite soft inside. Hardness, what we generally dislike in others, whether in a tired waitress, or a Gen whatever, early twenty-something clerk who is already burnt out on people because of the fragmented life he's led. But for me, it's the hardness of fear - fear of being known, obscuring integrity in myself.

And, in the longing to be whole, I'm thinking of a new periodic blog topic: Letters to Dad. Just typing it brings tears to my eyes. What I always feared, I lived out:

I wasn’t there that morning
When my father passed away
I didn’t get to tell him
All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I’m sure I heard his echo
In my baby’s new born tears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Yes, I know it's a cheesy 80's tune. But, I wasn't there, and a little over a month later, my son was born. In those 15 or so months, I've become acutely aware of the pain of separation, of my slow mourning. So, to express that mourning, I turn to the epistle that could never be read by it's intended. So, I release them to all, in hopes of fleshing out my fragmented life and finding healing in words.

Solo Deo Gloria,
jason

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