All’s Quiet on the Mid-Western Front

Hampshire is impossibly quiet. There’s not enough traffic to drown out the stillness. You can hear birds chirping and I don’t want to say that I’ve had writer’s block because I’ve not but you can hear birds chirping and that’s wonderful.

In the immaculately mowed lawn — diagonal this week, thank you very much — a robin pecks the ground for worms, I imagine, and I’m not entirely certain what to write about. Which, again, is a lie because I’m writing more poetry than usual and I did write a post last week but it wasn’t very good and I didn’t want to embarrass myself. So instead I’ve sipped coffee on the porch counting robins.

I hope you haven’t missed my jumble thoughts on Stuff too much.

Since I’m being so honest today I’ll admit that writing this blog was the only thing I wasn’t worried about with moving, “Certainly, Tommy, you can wax poetic all day long. You’ll probably write an essay a day.” Or, so I thought. I assumed that blogging would be an anchor as my family and I were knocked about on the waves of change (and overwrought clichés).

All that stuff I was worried about is working itself out fine and I’m having trouble blogging. What kind of millennial am I?  But, again, things are working out fine. Atticus has made himself at home, Alyssa has too. I’m still reading my bible and praying as habitually as I was when I was paid to read my bible and pray — heck, I may finish my year long reading plan by summer’s end. I wrote another sad worship song. Poems are dumping out of my mind like… I had a simile I was going to use there and you’re welcome that I didn’t, proof that I’m a grown up. Or, at least growing up.

But I don’t know what to blog about. I mean, Donald Trump is still awful and grace is still amazing. I could write that again, I guess. I probably will in time. And the Spirit’s been teaching me something about joy but it feels cheap or impossible to capture that in prose, maybe when I get my sea legs back (because of the rollicking clichés). It seems that I really needed that weekly worship set as a prompt.

I’ve thought about blogging about the worship services we’ve attended but that isn’t fair. I don’t want to spoil the intention and prayerful planning of another worship leader. I don’t want to encroach on a service meant for a specific moment in a certain geography for a particular people be reviewing it. Certainly, criticism is good but I don’t need to be a critic and church isn’t a show.Also I’ve been saying “certainly” a lot lately. For example: Certainly there’s no need to be so judgmental, certainly God is doing good things.He does do good things, doesn’t He? Certainly.So I want to write about all the good things He’s doing like keeping the robin in the front yard whistling while it works for that worm.

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Robin. May 7, 2014. Anna Hesser. Some Rights Reserved.

 

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All’s Quiet on the Mid-Western Front

2 thoughts on “All’s Quiet on the Mid-Western Front

  1. …I guess the early bird gets the poem?
    I do envy you though, mowing the lawn was always a time that I enjoyed, an escape from the world. There is something about the smell of freshly cut grass that I get nostalgic about… add in the sound of Vin Scully announcing a Dodger game on the radio and I get uber nostalgic!!
    Enjoy this time of refreshment… as time goes on and you get older, those times seem to get less and less.

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  2. I am trying to get rid of the Elgin chipmunks in our yard so I bought a solar sonic spike that sends out a sonic pulse every thirty seconds. It says it especially works well in clay soil so our yard should be perfection. Every morning I wake up to see my solar sonic spike two feet away from my friendly chipmunk who is perched on the corner of our porch. Not to be outdone by the sonic spike every 30 seconds he chirps every second as if saying “I can chirp better than the solar spike”. One week to go to see if it gets rid of the chipmunks. Maybe the chipmunks can move to Hampshire to break the silence?

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