High and small

__________High and  small __________ 

Charlene DiFonzo Holmes

"Sometimes, you have to be up really high to understand how small you are."

~Felix Baumgartner, who set the record for parachuting from the edge of space, more than 24 miles up.

Although it has been about eighteen months since the infamous jump, the sponsors just released a high-def longer version to watch.  

You can watch it here:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/01/31/felix-baumgartner-new-edge-of-space-gopro-video_n_4703015.html?ir=Sports&utm_hp_ref=sports#slide=1641989

I watched him exit his stationary air-craft and stand on its edge preparing to leap.  The view of space meeting the horizon of earth is breathe taking.  I was in 'AWE' of the grandeur of seeing darkness and light meet.  I felt so humbled, so tiny . . . 

So why isn't space illuminated too? Why is there darkness when Earth's atmosphere meets the edge of space? Why such a distinction between where Earth's influence ends and the darkness of space begins?  

If pictures can paint a thousand words, what is this one trying to say?  My unprofound immediate thoughts of Genesis 1v1 "In the beginning God created the Heavens and the Earth . . ."  1v3 And God said, "Let there be light, . . .",  1v4 ". . . And God separated the light from the darkness."  

How did the writer of this ancient book know the light was separated from the dark?  

John 1v1 "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God"

THE Word spoke and it IS. 

This is life on this illuminated dust ball- darkness is always pressing in on every side. Some days I am more aware of it then others.  Somedays I feel like the darkness is taking over and is all consuming.  With all that is in me, which isn't much, I try to beat it back with-in myself ---and that only works superficially.

So how does darkness get beaten back?  Certainly not by my fleshy ideas and habits. There is only one way to beat it back ---and that is with the Word that became flesh and dwelt among us.  It is with the words of the Word reflecting His light off me, just as the sun reflects its light off the earth.  It is realizing to whom I belong and where I stand in my relationship with my Creator.  The higher and more intimately I stand with Him the more I realize my finiteness and His infinite AWEsomeness.  My weakness and His Strength.  My utter dependence on Him and His limitless provisions.  2 Cor 12v10 ". . . For when I am weak, then I am strong."

The higher I stand with Him the smaller I feel; like a wee child whose every need depends on her parents.  Do I dare trust him to supply those needs?  It is hard when you spend a lifetime trying to make your own way, have your own way, and do it your own way.  Some days there is no-way, just His-way.

There are time when we are in a position like Baumgartner chose, 24+ miles up and no where to go but one ---down!

Father, help me to jump and trust you are the parachute of my soul.  Abba Daddy, show me how to fall with grace, fall expectantly, fall into your Love, fall into Hope, 

fall so you may fill-in all the holes, fall so I may stand tall, 

fall so You will be lifted up.

A Baby Changes Everything

                     
                   

                         

 

sign-Man: . . . but by the Grace of God there go I

Two years ago last month a friend of mine, Jane Day, kindly asked me to accompany her to interview a homeless person.  Her concern & curiosity led her to investigate those who are looking for a hand-out or maybe a hand-up.  She wrote about it in her blog called The Akron Dignity Project.

This was my response to the experience.

March 2, 2011                                                                                          Charlene DiFonzo-Holmes

sign-Man

. . . but by the grace of God there go I

The sun deceived me this afternoon as we walked toward sign-Man. The depth of the cold and wind poking, took me by surprise.  Sign-Man was surprised too; birthed in Boston Heights, a product and graduate of an affluent, quality Hudson High School, yet, he was on the street.  He shook his head in disbelief of his own history and ‘standing in society’---he said it was degrading;  I shook my internal head at his standing in mud all day. 

With kindness, Jane talks her language of questions.  I stare at his face--it is lined hard for his 43 years travailing this sod. Some walk this earth on plenty of Chem-lawn green grass, he is slogging his way in the mud.  My eyes move to his . . . they are clear blue windows tucked under a ball cap, hat and hood.  His parents are still living, but he has no relationship with them.  

For the second time, in this short interview, a car cautiously slides its window down a hand width, to give one, in the form of a dollar bill. He moves toward the vehicle reaching for that hand and says “God Bless You.”

*Does his Mom ruminate on her blue-eyed sign-Manchild.  

*Are his Dad’s dreams for his son bitterness on his tongue?  Or---were and are they both lost in their own slogging. 

*How do his parents navigate the knowledge of their child living on the  street, living in a plywood-hidden tent when the wind-chill is below zero?  

Maybe the bigger question is how does sign-Man, and I and you and them and all, go from a helpless babe to hapless Man?  I don’t have a clue of the steps, but I do know those steps are lined with sin disguised in what looks like plush carpet. Whether the sin of Man or of society, it is ultimately the deception of Satan, the consummate counterfeiter, the ultimate illusionist that has us so buffaloed that we are the proverbial frog sitting in the pot of water . . . or maybe even the sign-Man standing in the mud.

Sign-Man requests to be nameless and faceless.  We took our off centered pictures, then showing him to confirm their facelessness.  Before we parted I asked if we could pray with him.  He seemed most comfortable with this idea.  So with Jane to his left and I to his right, our hand resting on a shoulder, he warmly reached out to us and placed a hand on each of our shoulders. In the midst of a busy highway exit, biting cold and mud, we three bowed to the womb weaver of us all, the lover and redeemer of all our souls.  We bowed to the One who loves us equally and redeems equally no matter where we stand.  By Gods grace . . .