Jan Karon Keeps Me Sane

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You know, certain authors serve as a refuge of sorts. I read and listen to all sorts of books — some great works of literature, some theology, some biographical — but every now and then the circumstances of my life indeed require me to return to Mitford. John McDonough does an excellent job 98% of the time, which is a great record in the end, and helps me through many a hard, but also sometimes, a good time. I cycle through the series, fondly remembering most things, but also, sometimes hearing things seemingly for the first time, while I’m cooking, cleaning, driving — Audible, my Bose speaker, and Bluetooth are just the deal. I love the routines, the relationship Fr. Tim and Cynthia enjoy, the heart, the soul, Uncle Billy’s jokes, JC’s stupidity, Harley’s grin and brownies, and, and, and…

I’m on Light from Heaven right now and Fr. Tim was just preaching himself a sermon, declaiming Wordsworth as he pulled on his boots:

If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,
Then, to the measure of that heaven-born light,
Shine, Poet! in thy place, and be content:—
The stars pre-eminent in magnitude,
And they that from the zenith dart their beams,
(Visible though they be to half the earth,
Though half a sphere be conscious of their brightness)
Are yet of no diviner origin,
No purer essence, than the one that burns,
Like an untended watch-fire, on the ridge
Of some dark mountain; or than those which seem
Humbly to hang, like twinkling winter lamps,
Among the branches of the leafless trees;
All are the undying offspring of one Sire:
Then, to the measure of the light vouchsafed,
Shine, Poet! in thy place, and be content.

Except that he replaces Poet with Preacher. I could say, Teacher.

Before his declamation, he notes that Wordsworth is the poetic version of the bumper sticker sentiment: “Bloom Where You’re Planted.” Why is that so hard? Be content.

Be content.

Sometimes we sit in the Burger King parking lot and cry, asking God, why here? Sometimes we fantasize about going in and saying, “I quit!” Sometimes we dwell so much on the next step that we can’t see our way through the remains of the day. Sometimes our boss mocks the core of who we are and yet calls himself tolerant.

I might not be that star way up high, (that, interestingly enough, it turns out, only half the world can see.) I might even seem to appear to some as a wayward fire on the side of a mountain or some faint, twinkling lamp in the swirl of winter. But, whatever the case may be, I, too, find my source in God … and I need to shine … in my place … and … be content.

Dadgummit.

OR … is this the time after planting, namely, the time to uproot and be done?

I’ve been contemplating the collect for the 11th Sunday after Trinity:

O GOD, who declarest thy almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity; Mercifully grant unto us such a measure of thy grace, that we, running the way of thy commandments, may obtain thy gracious promises, and be made partakers of thy heavenly treasure; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Maybe it’s not so much about staying and blooming, as it is running along side our Lord and keeping His commandments:

Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
This is the first and great commandment.
And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.
On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets. (Matt. 22: 36-40)

Staying or going — be content, love God, and love others. Thy will be done, Lord.