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| Come ride with me!
Our family was at Pike
Place Market in Seattle a few weeks back.
Down on the waterfront there’s a 175 foot Ferris wheel that not only delivers
an awesome view of the city, but it was designed to go over the water. The adjacent building houses a rococo carousel that whirls to tinkling
music and bright lights. Twizzling past
in a flurry, faces were a blur of grins.
“What goes up must come
down. Spinnin’ wheel got to go ‘round…” drums
the 1969 Blood, Sweat and Tears song.
They were one of my picks, back in the day; still are now that I think
about it. The ode goes on to express
that talking about your trouble is a sin, so you might as well ride that
painted pony and let the wheel spin.
Our days go up, down and
spin around just like the tinted circus animals on the carousel. The merry-go-round has a mechanism that winds
it into motion. The thing that triggers
us is our passion.
Passion is a burst of
barely controllable emotion. It’s a
strong feeling of enthusiasm; fiery affection; compelling and a driving
influence. Passion is a good thing. It helps us to work for something and love
deeply. In a single word: intensity.
What has captivated me with
intensity? That’s a decent question to
ask . Am I just mesmerized by the lights
and tinkling music of the carousel? Or
have I stepped off the ride and started walking to something?
This week is Holy Week; the
week of Jesus’ passion. The word is also
defined as suffering or affliction. Egad,
that puts a new spin on the spinnin’ wheel.
We are Jesus’ passion and winding force.
His immense, fiery affection compelled Him with intensity to experience
anguish for us.
“Talkin' 'bout your
troubles it's a cryin' sin.” Live in the
passion He has for you. Your days will
be a twizzle of intensity on the carousel.
“Someone is waiting just
for you…”
Missy
If you have
been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass
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green in concrete For the last lot-of-years I’ve lived in urban areas. I’ve become a city girl with hints of a flower child mixed with hipster nuances…translated I like to wear skinny jeans. This is the total opposite of how I grew up, which was on a farm. My paternal grandparents grew, raised, caught and hunted for everything they ate – radical organic, free-range stuff. On my Mom’s side of the fam tree, there were green grocers and orchard growers. Heck, I was in 4-H raising feeder calves and a small flock of wooly sheep. Gardens, canning, freezing and preserving everything was the ordinary. I carried on the gardening-preserving, saving the spoils piece, until I found myself in fresh veggie-at-a-farmer’s-market heaven! The foreign city I found myself in had a temperate climate where fruit and vegetables could be grown year ‘round, and … it was sold at a giant open air market every week. Yippee! I no longer needed to ...
Amen
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