Thank you, Ally Bartoszewicz, for this reflection on a summer to remember in the "Black Diamond" unit.
I was struck with the truth that that boy was still in between those two freckled ears, lost in a silent scream of a dropped signal. I no longer saw an enigma, a violent other who rocked back and forth and moved his hands in ways I could never comprehend. I saw a child, a man, a human.
Artwork from Ally Bartoszewicz.
"...a constant reminder to let God be the ongoing artist of my life, as He was the very intentional artist of me."
A meditation on poverty by Mary-Kate Burns.
It is a phantasm, the desire of a desire. There is always the creeping matter of subjectivity, the self-centeredness of personal preference. I want poverty, but I do not want it to be so poor. I can say that I want us to be stripped bare, cut open, letting blood, not counting the cost. But in the end, my heart is small and selective, and I cannot accept this ocean into it. I can only sieve what I think will nourish.
Dead dead dead or alive alive? Read this short story by Mary-Kate Burns here.
You really do die as you’ve lived, is what I’ve realized. If you lived as a stranger to everyone, you’ll die as a stranger to everyone. You’ll be buried in a stranger’s suit, made up with a stranger’s face, and arrive before the Lord with a heart as locked up and closed off as it was your whole life. And He’ll give you one look over and say, “I do not know you,” and close the Gates.