Phyllis Beveridge Nissila
UPDATE December, 2020
This post, first offered in the summer of 2016, is a reminder again today to trust God when it seems the (political) Kraken, “battened” (fattened) sufficiently on power and greed, has finally surfaced for all to see and to fear.
Yet there are those blind.
And we, grieve.
You might say this post and the previous two are a kind of trilogy of what words live long after discovery, whether of joy or of sorrow, when life and the doings of men pulse strongest, when bud bursts to bloom or to suspicion, when the words and THE Word, both growing beneath (the one feeding on hate the other on faith) at length surface…
…the first “to twist and roar and die,” as per the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, the other to eternal peace and light as per the Author of Life.
In this season of pending winter (and of darkness? God yet knows), we must not forget the Light that came into the world, surfacing in the fullness of time, to guide and to comfort even in the fullness of our time.
The Light that will never be put out.
Still. In the Moment. God.
In days like this
It is imperative
To “mind the moment,”
Quell the fear,
To remember (from)
Whence we come and (to)
Whence we go;
To remember the Power
Of the Unseen.
Some think the Origin of all is just
One dimension removed,
Others think eleven.
We see but bits and scraps
Moving in and out
Of our humble 3-D,
Tricking eye and logic, as
Through seed, stem, stock;
Hovering over head and heart–
Defying death in birth
Though fragile as thready tendrils
In a rocky field.
In the face of the bombs and bombastics
We can see, it is easy to overlook
The Other Who
Powers such small (not to mention big) things.
Though deemed inconsequential by
People of the lesser god,
In the fullness of time
Those intrepid roots and
Bud, bloom and fruit.
Can stop them,
Nor urgency dismiss them.
In spite of all,
Stop, if even for a moment,
And to note the power of smallest things—
A mustard seed, for example.
Minute, yet, at length,
And so, believers
Need not fear those who
May kill the body but who
Cannot kill the soul…
In this, hope and courage
Root and grow.
The small grains make room…
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes…
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves (she writes as them).
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot’s in the door.
Some people view Plath’s poem through the lens of the power of the proletariat. I view it through the lens of the power of God, Who, even in arid places, hidden nooks, obscure crannies—in dark of night or bright of day—pulses life, albeit fragile, from His dimensions to ours.
For nothing stops Him.
(Look around, for example.)
“Let there be…” echoes, still, from the front edge of time, its force multiplying in both mushroom and in man; its power from another dimension out of reach of The Destroyer–out of the claws of he who, in reality, neither understands nor, ultimately, overcomes it.
I believe it is critical to our mental, emotional, and spiritual survival, these days, to savor the power of the Creator, Who is neither intimidated nor surprised by all the beauty, bucks, and brawn evil amasses against good.
Indeed, many believe, God has had a plan for it all along, even since before the power of free will, as potent as it can be, that turned/turns hearts from Him to jealousy, pride, and greed.
To this end, and to offer you the significance of a moment of respite and reflection far from the chaos ramping up, I share with you the above and below snapshots of other moments in time, some recent, some a few years old. But all attesting to the power in what might seem fragile; glimpses of the length, depth, and breadth of the creative force; the quiet, delicate, minute, breath-taking, awe-inspiring, digitized moments from His dimension to ours, as gentle reminders of Who we serve.
And Who serves us.
I am reminded also, these days, of a scene* in the film Dr. Zhivago, where the protagonist, during his flight with his family from Moscow to his country home during the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917, is grilled by the commander of the occupying force who happens by on his official train. One of the occupying forces, that is. When asked what his purpose was, the doctor replied, simply, “Just live!”
Indeed, we still get “to live,” even though the darkness would snuff out the light.
If it could.
Because, you see, ultimately and forever, it cannot.
We still get to stop and comprehend
The real power, brains, and brawn,
Though “they” who push and prod us on, seem formidable–“Nothing to see here,” they lie.
While truth flowers in every nook, cranny, and heart:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Jesus)
My thanks to siblings Andrew J. Beveridge and Barbara Beveridge whose pictures grace this page, unless otherwise noted.
Image of mustard field from: www.videezy.com from https://www.google.com/search?q=creative+commons+royalty+free+images+of+mustard+bush
Image of mushrooms: www.stockfreeimages.com royalty free