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March 19, 2021

30 of 40

How much the present moment means

To those who’ve nothing more —

The Fop — the Carp — the Atheist —

Stake an entire store

Upon a Moment’s shallow Rim

While their commuted Feet

The Torrents of Eternity

Do all but inundate —

Emily Dickinson

Alone in the silent dim, these 40 moments have their own life. When you own a life and it does not happen, the moment is left. The future is not what it was to be, the past us only what it was.

So I read words over 6 score years gone, and they are not gone.

We are caught, these days, by both our choosing and our requirement. Like every life. We think we are the Architect, but we are the Carpenter. And we did not make the plans, we just build. In this way we may never leave the irony of Lent: given enough to give up what we have been given, as if we ever had it.

It is, if course, not enough, but it is all we have. The ability to make, but never really knowing to what end. Given the tiny unseeable perfections and the unknowable enormities there has to be a plan. The reality of God is in the overwhelming abundance and lack of any understanding beyond what we feel, that just may be Grace.

It turns out that we are clueless beyond the joy of making and the frustrations of inability. And the faith that these mean more – because it does mean more.

I do love her words, because they are then, now, next. Did she know?

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