Year 4

My Resplendent Bride went to be with God four years ago today. When she got there The Crucified Carpenter King had a spot at table awaiting her, and a room in The Father’s house. The Crucified Carpenter King is always adding additions to that sprawling complex, a complex without kleenex because tear wiping is His purview.


This morning I arose at 6ish as I am prone to do. I opened the door to Professor Frank’s room and greeted my old ally. He’s an old mutt now, and we have developed a begrudging respect, no, a warm familiar co-depencancy. His bones are old now, and he always knows when it is raining and won’t go outside until he’s good and ready. I respect this now. So it is I open the door to the mudroom and he lifts his happy head and wags his tail, the glory of God gifted to all dogs, while I make my espresso in the kitchen of this old house. And as I make my espresso I contemplate how to go about this black day, and I know not the answer. I thought to myself that I might go about the usual routine, iron my shirt and pants (when I wear the iron-able variety), knot my usual half-windsor knot (when I do that to myself), and go to work in my little study at The Little White Church.

But my thoughts of usually were invaded and interrupted by a violent lump arising in my throat such as I have not experienced for a while now.

The mourning is a grief inflicted wound the flesh grows over scarless. And I carry it always within me.

Jesus Christ, may your name be adored. You have loved me through all of this. When The Hermitage was an empty wreckage and when You filled it with laughter once again Your Love was and is Polaris. May Your name be adored.


The Sun rises like the phoenix over my head, Glory and Fire and Warmth. The stars take over when the sun retires to ashes, and the fire from my weber grill flickers and the shadows dance and play over the yard of The Hermitage as Professor Frank wags his tail in muttly majesty to the glory of the Resurrection King.

My new wife Rachel hugs and kisses away the tears I refuse to let drop in front of her.

No life fashioned by the hands of The Crucified Carpenter King is replaceable. Sometimes in the midst of the mourning deluge we can forget the value of our own lives. The divine spark is left smoldering in the rage of the great was.

Wherever you are on the road, I want you to know God Loves You. Even if you hate me for saying so.

I want to live in the land of the living and see the goodness of the Lord. I want to smile with this lump in my throat and the tears stinging my eyes.



Thank you for the Lovingkindness

Thank you for letting me know

I don’t have to save the world today

Four years

Since she saw your glory

And O, how my eyes are filled

Filled to the brim with sorrow

Grant me the peace to stand

In the midst of the tension in the middle

This Day. All The Days.

Of the paradox of sorrow & Resurrection

And The Lovely Crucified Carpenter King.


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