Monday, December 29, 2014
The Subtle Sensations of Faith
I recently came across this article, which expresses well some of the essentials of a life of faith.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Norris Family Christmas Communique - 2014
Christmas Joy from Clan Norris of (originally) South
Pasadena
For years,
I have heard my sweet wife telling friends, more particularly new parents, that
“The days seems long, but the years rush by”.
I just Googled that, and it is a Nancy Norris original, found nowhere
else on the Interwebs. As 2014 closes, we
find ourselves a living testament to that idea this year. We have no idea what happened to 2014. But if we will just pause for a minute, we will recall it as a year packed with so very much to be thankful
for, lots to celebrate, some losses to mourn, and countless moments, people and
friendships for which we are deeply, abidingly thankful. Your friendship tops the thankful list. With that in mind, below find “A Year in the
Life of The Norris’ “, as related to Dad via emails from all points on the
compass, and forthwith semi-faithfully retold.
LA / Chicago / Elsewhere
This has been a year of transition,
change, and a return to one last year in beloved Chicago for Kelly. For the past six months, she has returned to
the City of Broad Shoulders to serve as a nanny for, in Kelly’s words: “two very
fun boys, ages 4 and 8, and a very generous and loving pair of parents”. Nancy and I can personally vouch for this
family’s hospitality and warmth, after enjoying a late September feast outdoors
on the patio at their home. Kelly has a
heart to see the world; and was also able to visit New Orleans, have great
friends visit her in Chicago, and join her whole family for the Bruin / Husky
game in Seattle. What a fun weekend was
that! The past year also found her in Costa
Rica for a remarkable six week immersion into the Spanish language; as well as
the rain forests and tropical coastal waters.
Kelly is preparing for her eventual vocation as an elementary grade
teacher here in LA, very likely with a classroom of largely Spanish speaking
children. I tell people all the time;
given her caring heart and love for kids, Kelly is now, and will continue to be
one of my greatest heroes.
What Rain? Life in Seattle
Heather
continues to love her life at UW in Seattle!
She is so very thankful for “my awesome, encouraging, thoughtful”
Seattle community of friends. Nancy and
I have met many of these folks; they are indeed a warm, fun, thoughtful and remarkable
group. Might we all be so blessed. She was accepted (hurray!) into the
psychology program at school this past fall, and is starting to think more
seriously about an additional degree in nursing after graduation. This past summer Heather again served at YSSC
Camp near Yosemite, and was filled to the brim with hard work, the beauty of
Creation, and joy in serving kids and God.
Never one to sit still for long, at the dinner table when she was three
years old, or today; Heather is off to Ireland soon after Christmas for a
semester at University College Dublin.
Adventure awaits!
Of Faith, Service, Laughter, Joy
Nancy feels that each day is a gift. She is thankful to continue serving as the
Board Chair/Volunteer of Club 21 an agency serving families with Down Syndrome.
As a newer non-profit, Club21 is more financially
stable and is growing in many ways. More than these things, it is amazing to watch
these beautiful, courageous families and children make new friends, discover
learning resources, and find belonging and hope. This must be what pure joy looks like! Nancy has also begun mentoring young girls
through Elizabeth House, a home for pregnant, homeless women in Pasadena. And if that were not enough, during the past
year she has been key in the welcoming two recent college grads in to our home as
guests while they begin life in the Real World.
It has been loads of fun to have their energy, appetites, long
conversations that matter, laughter, and friends grace our home in this season
of their lives…and ours! She misses the Norris
girls, but since the Fall brought us together in Seattle and Chicago, her heart
is full indeed.
This Wondrous Ride - Dad
And then there is Dad. I have somehow mysteriously reached the
season in life where I must admit I am well in the depths of middle age. And this same season offers more of a long
view; a perspective on all this going and coming, these great gifts in the form
of two active and now adult daughters and the daily affection and partnership
of a remarkable wife.
How did we all get here, all of us,
to just this place? Where are those
smallish hands of little girls I used to hold in mine, those tiny giggles from
the back seat of the car, driving to some sporting event with friends. Alas, those hands are larger now, and
beautiful, and offered to lift others up, to give courage, to provide friendship
and love. Those voices have matured and
become more graceful. How has life
turned out like this? Is this just
random happenstance, or might there be some great Author writing all this,
making this story both often beautiful and sometimes frightening?
The answer to these questions is perhaps
found within the verses a of a Christmastide sonnet (found below), entitled “Descent”, and written by our new friend Malcolm
Guite, who is an Anglican priest, chaplain, poet, and singer-songwriter living
in Cambridge, England. Nancy and I met
Malcolm earlier this year at a retreat in the Texas hill country, and found him
a true renaissance man of great insight and hilarity. He also is a dead ringer for Santa! I would encourage you read this piece slowly,
ponder its meaning, and perhaps share it with those you love over the Holidays.
Christmas Peace, Joy, Laughter, and Love
to all from our home to yours!
Descent
They sought to soar into the skies
Those classic gods of high renown
For lofty pride aspires to rise
But you came down.
You dropped down from the mountains
sheer
Forsook the eagle for the dove
The other Gods demanded fear
But you gave love
Where chiseled marble seemed to
freeze
Their abstract and perfected form
Compassion brought you to your knees
Your blood was warm
They called for blood in sacrifice
Their victims on an altar bled
When no one else could pay the price
You died instead
They towered above our mortal plain,
Dismissed this restless flesh with scorn,
Aloof from birth and death and pain,
But you were born.
Born to these burdens, borne by all
Born with us all ‘astride the grave’
Weak, to be with us when we fall,
And strong to save.
- Malcolm Guite
malcolmguite.wordpress.com
Monday, November 24, 2014
Christian Wiman & Eugene Peterson
In October, my wife and I had the unique privilege of being a part of a weekend with these two men. I am stilling pondering the conversations. I will try to write on more of this soon, but here is a visual beginning:
Poet and Pastor: Christian Wiman & Eugene Peterson from Laity Lodge on Vimeo.
Poet and Pastor: Christian Wiman & Eugene Peterson from Laity Lodge on Vimeo.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Of Sea, and Sunsets, and a Land without Time
“as wave upon wave rolls in, breaks on the beach, and sinks
away in the endless gray water; eternally one and ever another…life is but a
moment before the ancient, primal sea.
And we are unable to turn our gaze away, for hours on end we stare over
the foamy crests, outward – to where? – we hardly know ourselves, but it draws
our gaze into the endless distance, out to where the sun sinks into the sea,
where the waves rise, and the soul stretches out, wants to know what the eyes
cannot sense – wants to know about what is beyond the grey sea – or whether it
just continues on eternally like this, without and end, without a beyond, a
process of becoming and passing away with neither measure nor goal – and yet as
intensively as it searches, it always sees the same drama…no hope…eternal
hiddenness.”
Recently, we have spent a week on the island of Kauai, enjoying warm days devoid of schedules, routine, and the seemingly endless hurry of the mainland. Each day, we three spent a good amount of our time simply gazing out at the endless breaking waves on the beachfront; enjoying local surfers plying the waves for hours. It’s remarkable how soothing this can be; how soft and gentle upon the busy and weary urban soul.
In reading and conversation during that week, I learned that the ancient Hawaiians had no form of time keeping before the arrival of European explorers, and historians are unaware of any reference to their use of anything resembling a sundial to keep track of the time of day. Hence, there were no Hawaiian words referring to precise time prior to the arrival of Europeans; before the arrival of our schedules, and meetings, and “efficiency”.
Before we came, there were just these warm and gracious people, and this brilliant blue sky, pure white clouds, palm trees, and the sound of the endless breaking of this deep blue ocean. Before we Europeans arrived came there were only the perpetual nightly sunsets of saffron, leaded grey, and brilliant red gracing the horizon. Nightly gifts of Providence fading toward eternity.
The last time we visited here was nine years ago. Our daughters were just 11 and 14, and we enjoyed a fun vacation on two islands, engaged in all sorts of kid-friendly activities. This time there are three of us, as Older Daughter is starting off a new post college life, away in Chicago with her new job, and tribe of warm friendships. There is a gentle bittersweet to this trip. Earlier this week we three took a trip back in time to a place we visited during our last stop here. It was if we each were being drawn back to relive something deeply good and full of mercy.
Tunnels Beach is on the far north shore of Kauai, north of Waimea Bay, where the road stops and you just cannot drive anymore. After the Big War, there was an attempt to build a road around the north end of the island, but this is one of the wettest spots on the planet, and after months of surveying and planning and then attempting to dig into the jungle, the effort was abandoned; surrendered to nature and given back to the persistent rain and endless time of this island.
Tunnels is also known as one of the easiest and best spots on this island for snorkeling. We headed to the end of the road, across to the beach, and into the blue waters; warm and gentle. We swam out into the surf, suddenly surrounded by an abundance of ocean life right beneath us. Reef fish of every imaginable color and size, eels slithering at arm’s length – a striking gift before our eyes. Coming back up for air, you take a look back at the beach and are rendered nearly speechless at the vista of the deep green mountains that descend down to the beach, of palm trees, and of brilliant blue water around you. I’m not sure if the tears in my eyes were from the salt water, or the brilliance of that view.
Or perhaps it was the sudden and deep understand of Who it was that designed all this rich tropical beauty for us to absorb. After just a few minutes of exploring, we encountered the gentle and constant underwater attendants of the reef – soft green adolescent sea turtles gently swimming through the tide. We spotted at least three; each one wearing on his face what seemed to us like a soft smile as they gazed back at us - we awkward large white creatures wearing what must look like space suit snorkel gear on our faces. I suspect those turtles know something of timelessness, as they drift softly through the immense sea. We are intruders in their world, but they tolerate us with smiles on their faces. They have no schedules, no place to be today.
But I have a schedule.
It’s kept in my electronic calendar on my cell phone. And on my PC at work. It’s backed up on The Cloud, don’t you
know. I am proud of that schedule there;
it gives my life purpose and meaning. It
keeps me occupied and feeling like I am making a difference. That schedule affirms the vibration of some protestant work ethic deep within me.
I noticed something each late afternoon from our beachfront vista. Something we dubbed “The Big Event”. Every night, without fail, as twilight approached, the beachfront road would fill with cars and trucks, each containing a local or two just getting off work – coming to the beach for the end of the day. And then from the rooms behind ours came more folk; the obvious tourists, dressed in mainland styles that gave away their point of origin. Some brought beach blankets, others a bottle of wine to share, each quietly coming forth together. Sitting and standing silently or in quiet conversation.
And we were with them there each night to witness something simple, and timeless, and in a way even sacred. It was sunset time. Each night the sky would fill with colors indescribable and gorgeous. For just those few moments at the close of the day, we were all quietly sharing a “moment before the ancient, primal sea.” And, we were unable to turn our gaze away. It was timeless, and beautiful, and fleeting.
And I standing there, thought of Bonhoeffer's words. I wished that my soul could stretch out. I wanted to know what my eyes cannot sense. And yet, I have this strange comfort in knowing that I have seen enough in these years to feel that my life is carefully attended by the Artist of those sunsets, by the Alchemist of these seas, and that time, whatever that means, is held for me in a deep and sacred place.
I think the ancient Hawaiians, with their lack of time keeping, may have a great deal to teach me.
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