New faces and old ones too

Jane Genevieve Reynolds and Parker Sanford Reynolds are two new faces in the world. They are both adorable and very little. It's a wonder to look at those tiny faces and realize they're going to grow up and be people who do good things, wrong things, stupid things, and marvelous things. Right now, they just need constant care and nourishment. They also need love, but they don't know they need that yet. But every day they are changing.

On the other hand, Gary Mathews, an old face--about the same age as mine--died this weekend. Gary and his wife Sharon had six children who are fairly amazing people, definitely smart and good, and now Gary is gone. He leaves a legacy of having raised good people who make a difference in the lives of others. He leaves this existence and his children have new babies. Jim and I age while Parker, Jane, Sanford, and Valentine grow and flourish into becoming who they are meant to be.

I'm struck by the constant state of flux in the world. Everything changes and it's doing it right before our eyes. We only notice the big things, a new birth, a death, a disaster, seedlings turning into plants. But movement and change in the world is the underlying foundation of things.
I'm coming to see that the idea of building our house upon a rock is more nebulous than we realize. Rocks aren't really as solid as we think. The atoms in rocks are really moving all the time, and in our own bodies, Sallee told me there is really more space than substance; it's just the way it's organized and looks to us.

I've been reading about atoms and their spectacular make-up and behavior. But it's making me realize some things about the nature of life that I've not considered before. If even the mountains aren't as stable as permanent as we like to think, where do we build our houses?

I talked to Sallee about this yesterday, and together we wondered why there seems to be a human need for stability, steadfastness, permanence when in the actual, atom-relationships of this earth, there is constant movement and shifting. Impermanence is really the way things work, and we're always striving to make things last. I want my yard to stay as beautiful as it is right this minute. I want the birds to keep singing, the pond to look as lovely as it does, the temperature to be so perfect, but it's not destined to be.

My yard isn't the same as it was yesterday...weeds will grow back, the pond will need to be cleaned again, and we'll have to spread mulch another time. However, the feeling I have about my yard is what's permanent. Sallee mentioned that maybe God built in this need for stability so that humans would turn to Him.

What I think I'm realizing about life is that the really strong, permanent aspects of our lives are the nebulous and more ethereal considerations. What is permanent to me? I've decided that the stability in our lives come from our relationship with God, no matter how we define it. Our awareness of God and the feelings of connection we feel are the rock or foundation of everlastingness. The other permanent aspect of life is the connection we build with others. Our love for each other is what's stable. Connections between our hearts and minds are what's stable. Our house really isn't a "thing" we build upon a rock. It's the spiritual, intellectual, and emotional connections we build between our hearts and minds with others.

We do know that God is a master of metaphor, and I find it ironic that I'm coming to understand that the real, permanent forces in the world are the gentle, non-visible, aspects of our lives. Old faces will keep disappearing, new faces will come, but the connections between us are permanent. Nathan's dad Gary will always be with him, even though he is physically gone.

Blessings to all of us as we go forth to make connections--not the kind we can see, but the kind that are permanent, regardless of what the atoms are doing.