Saturday, July 30, 2011

Love Wins



In my bedroom, I have a stuffed Hagrid and a Harry Potter doll on top of my dresser.  At their feet is a stuffed basilisk.  I also have a little Dobby figurine complete with an iron and a lamp in his hands.  My 9 year-old gray cat is named Dobby, and when I call him I find myself saying his name in a British accent.  Why is that?  Harry Potter has been an integral part of my life and the life of my family. 

As a writer I am in awe of J.K. Rowling.  She didn't get an M.F.A. in creative writing, she just loved to write, and she had a story in her head that begged to be written.  I don't believe one person could have just dreamed that whole story up.  I believe that story was given to her to write;  it was a gift of the gods to humankind; to children of all ages.  It is nothing short of brilliant!  Rowling herself has an uncanny brilliance  to have been the teller of that story.  HP is full of symbols that touch the soul, tell us who we are, and give us courage to live for love and Goodness, against all odds.  The summary of the entire series is that Love Always Wins.  By jove, I dare say that's biblical!!  In the end, it's not violence or power that endures, but love.  It's the power that sees us through when all seems dark and hopeless and we look entirely mad to still believe in its possibility. 

My daughter Sarah was 7 years old when the first Potter movie came out, and she had been introduced to the Harry Potter series in elementary form at school.  She wanted to see the movie.  I was painfully aware of the religious controversy over it, so I decided to find out for myself what all the hubbub was about.  I purchased "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" because the waiting list was too long at the library.  Larry and Sarah went to the movie, but I wanted to wait and read the book first. 

That was in November 2001.  The whole world was sad and dark during that time.  As a pastor and human being, I struggled with hope after 9/11.  But when I started reading "Harry Potter" I was transported into a world of magic, of imagination, wonder, delight, fun, depth, spirit and hope.  Yep, a so-called children's book gave me HOPE.  I couldn't stop at the end of the book.  I bought the second one, the third and the fourth and anxiously awaited the fifth.  I read the first 4 during the four weeks of Advent, and that was very fitting.  A time of great upheaval in the world after 9/11 and Advent; a time of waiting and trusting against all evidence that Love will win in the end.   Harry's story helped me through a horribly dark time.  Both Larry and Sarah read the books as well, and with each new book's publication, we impatiently waited for one to finish so the next person could read it. 

In the 10 years since, we have loved Harry, and Sarah has literally grown up with the story.  We've watched all the movies more than once, and celebrated the unique genius of each effort to convert the books to film with integrity.  I have cared about the actors and actresses who've translated this story for us so beautifully and allowed us all to watch them grow up so admirably in front of millions of aunts, uncles and cousins.  I'm encouraged that they turned out so well in an age where child actors too often become the subject of tragic stories.  I've been particularly enamored with Snape and his silky voice, and his character that was so much more than met the eye.  He showed us that we all have the potential for goodness and bravery and deep, passionate love. 

It is my favorite story of all time.  It is a smorgasboard of truths about the human condition, that just when you're ready to give up and be a cynic,  you are assured that there is Something Greater always at work that will always triumph for those who persist in believing and risk appearing naive in this cynical world. 

Thank you, Harry, and thank you, J.K. Rowling, for giving us such a powerful story to carry with us.  Thank you for teasing our crusty imaginations alive again, making us feel like children again who still believe in magic, and for assuring us dreamers that there is reason to keep on keeping on for a world without evil, violence, greed and lust for power that eventually kills both body and spirit. 

I keep big ol' huggable Hagrid and The Boy Who Lived (Twice) up where I can see them before I go to sleep, just in case my dreams get scary.  And I remember that Love will shelter me in my sleeping and my waking, no matter what.

If I only believe.....

Sunday, July 17, 2011

childhood


when I think
of being a kid
suddenly I smell
fresh-cut grass
hear the mourning dove
moan

I smell
wood smoke
and am comforted
damp earth
the sound of rain drops
on forest leaves

pine needles
were a bed
on which to nap
in the back yard
while the bark dripped
of christmas sap

the musty barn
old wood
smelled of dirt
pain chips in the grass
at the entrance
an anomaly in the city

creaky stiars
led to mysteries
in the loft
saturated with spirits
of the dead
in army green

banana seat bicycle
I was a racing star
hearing the cheers
of my fans
as I crossed the line
first

the crackle of
a needle on vinyl
squeezing out music
in the grooves
music that filled
all the empty spaces
and let me fly
on fairy dust

and let me dream

Ii was a super hero
I was the first woman president
I was a leader
that saved the world
from itself

I heard the sadness
in the dove's song
but I also heard the hope
imagined the wind
on its wings

after all, it could fly

and now I hear it
up in the trees
on a late summer evening
reminding me of treasures

simplicity

reminding me
to dream

ruins

they're tearing down
the old school
and people are weeping

it didn't meet the codes
they couldn't afford
to keep it standing

but it
holds
peoples' lives

connects children
and grandchildren

they remember When

as another slab
of concrete
shatters on the ground

through the clouds
of dirt
and gravel

people drive by
slowly
as if in a funeral procession
or rubber-necking at a car wreck

silently
watching it all
fall apart

a sanctuary
a container
of snapshots of the past

moments frozen
all looking so perfect
in retrospect

coming down
broken
dust to dust
and
ashes to ashes

all my life
I was moving on
here and there
packing up

the one constant
the thread
that held all the pieces
together

was
the Sanctuary
candlelight and broken bread
grape juice and desert epics
billowy costumes
formal procession

drama in word
redemption offered
in water and fire
the cup and the stole

and like a giant yellow
Caterpillar
huge sharp teeth
heavy, crushing, biting

it all falls down
shattered
stone upon stone
teeth set on edge

fire and smoke
ashes to ashes
dust to dust

ashes to ashes
dust to dust

broken chalice
in the rubble
torn pages
from an empty book

echoes of pontification
faded in the air
splintered wood
once carved, once beautiful

all coming down

no longer viable
no longer life-giving
no longer
useful

ashes to ashes
dust to dust

in the midst
of the rubble
I search

Saturday, July 2, 2011

rip cord



sunny morning
a spirit
a wish
of daring

strapped in harness
ascending with cables
up
up
above the city
above the crowds
above the church steeples

higher
above it all

adrenaline rush
time standing still
the things that bother me
down there
are as small
as the ant-sized people
below

I can breathe
laugh at nothing
none of it
weighs me down
none of it matters

and then, a pull
whoosh!
I'm falling

falling
falling toward
water
trees
the earth

knowing
that I won't crash

another tug
and I'm flying
soaring
arms outstretched
in a moment of
weightlessness
elusive freedom
from it all

no parents
none of the fears
they instilled in me

fears of flying
of rising above
arms wide open
heart exposed
to life and air
for better and worse

a parable
for living
breaking free
soaring

defying
oppressive gravity
unconcerned by mortality
eyes wide open
to remember
the moment

feet back on
the ground
my own weight
hard against
the surface

I will remember
what it felt like
for a moment

to soar