After a Long Gap, My Final Tinkering

I can hardly believe it.  It's been over a month since I last posted.  So much has happened, and it has been such a rich time.

My last post was upon my arrival in England.  The ensuing two weeks were amazing.  Old churches, beautiful pasture-scapes, tight narrow hedge-hemmed roads, heart-pounding drives on the left side of the road, castles, cathedrals, holy wells, sunsets and cloud spreads, sheep and cows, walking paths through pastures, Stonyhurst, Holywell, St. Beunos, St. Asaphs, Conway, Ruthin, Dublin...I've got a bunch of pictures and I hope you will give me a chance to share with you my slide show some time in the fall ahead!

Also, some time this fall be sure to ask me about the "five thoughts" that cemented during my travels, and that I am bringing back with me, five thoughts that will provide rich fodder for much more thinking in the months ahead.

It was so great to come home to my family after two weeks abroad.  John Henry Newman, in his autobiographical work Apologia Pro Su Vita, writes how foreign travel "has a way of throwing you back into yourself."  I would say that was very true for me.  But two weeks alone, away from Susan and the kids, made me miss them so much.  The reunion home was great.

We travelled afterwards up to Washington where we had wonderful times with family and friends.  I was able to get up on water skis after about ten falls, with Kelly Ballard (former Hillside worship pastor) at the helm of the boat in the Willamette River south of Portland.  Most memorably:  I helped build a prairie fence on my sister-in-law's 5 acres, cutting through thick bush, and digging post holes in the oddest of places.

I am so excited to say that I have finished 3 significant poetry projects this summer.  One work is called The Cast.  It is a long poem with a commentary that portrays characters from the Bible in order to tell the whole story of redemption in a creative way.  I am seeing in this work a possible fresh approach to teaching theology!  The second work is called The Ascension Window.  It is also a long poem with commentary portraying the great East Window of St. Asaph's Cathedral in St. Asaph, North Wales.  It is full of Bible stories, theology, history, all tied together by this amazing window.  The third work is called Waking Up in Wales: Old and New Poems.  This is a collection of many of my favorite poems over the last many years, with a large selection of poems written over this past year.  I have self-published these three little books and they are all available on a website called lulu.com where they can be ordered (for a cost) or downloaded (for free).

I am now beginning my re-entry preparations.  It has been an unbelievably rich and healing time to be away.  Now my excitement is building to come "home" to my family and rejoin you all on the journey you have been on.  I will be a little different, and you will be a little different, and the fresh mix, I have no doubt,  will be a good chemistry for all of us!

I will be back in the office August 26-29 for three re-orientation days.  I am officially back at my post on Tuesday, September 2, and will be in church again for the first time on Sunday, September 7.

It will be a joy to be together again!

I ALMOST Made It To Clitheroe Without a Mishap

Oh, I was so close. About five miles away. I had found my way from Manchester Airport, on up to Preston, turning east on A56 toward Clitheroe. I was starting--I thought-- to get the feel of this crazy left-side driving.

But not quite used to it. Judging incorrectly my left side margins, I hit some protruding curb, or something, and demolished the left front tire of my rental SAAB.

I pulled off to the side, which itself was an awkward maneuver, and set out to change the tire, as I would my own car, but in the attempt to loosen the bolts of the front tire, I couldn't locate the strange fitting that was needed to lock onto the odd Saabian tire bolts. I was stuck. No cell phone. No idea where I was.

Where can I go from Your Spirit? Even the darkness is not dark to you.....

Then Lumb, and her little black dog Scoobie, walked by. I asked if she lived nearby, and she said she did. I explained my predicament to her, and asked if I might accompany her to her house and call the rental car company. In God's providential care, she had mercy on me and invited me along.

I called for help, and help came and changed the tire. As I was leaving Lumb's house, I asked her if I could pray for her--a pray for blessing, and of healing for her ailing heart. She courteously declined, letting me know she was an atheist, and if she worshipped anything, she worshipped nature, as expressed so prettily there in her quaint backyard garden.

I can't help but think God purposefully arranged our encounter today. In doing so, he turned an atheist into a veritable angel of mercy for a moment, and perhaps, in some small way, I might have been a sign to her--a faint glimmering sign-- that God just might be real after all...

Pray for her, will you? Lumb, a widow living by herself, and little Scoobie, there on Ribchester Road in Lancashire, England.

A Memorable Moment in Maui

Of the many wonderful memories I will carry away from our ten day get away to beautiful Maui, probably the most vivid happened one morning as I was taking a long quiet walk along the beach. I happened to look out toward the horizon and saw a school of dolphins passing by. One in particular jumped out of the water and spun around like an Olympic diver.  I waited, hoping for another performance....And then it did it again!

As you might imagine, I thought to capture the moment in a sonnet (with a coda).  It is still a work in progress. It is called Leap for Leaping's Love.

White-creased blue Pacific under summer blue sky

   white-fleeced strafed with clouds by. I, wading

   in the slipping surf.  And pointing there, parading

coast off along, playing coolly small school of spry

dolphins, five in all, dorsals slicing through high

   seas like easy pirates, laughing and evading

   all the camera scramblers, those too busy sun-bathing,

up and under, up under and passing by.

One leapt out!  Full out and sun skimmed

   off her skin as she complete spin

      all-air-torpedo-turned, tight-twist turned

down splashed white spray scaling the row-rimmed

   wave spaces. Erased from view.  Gone.  She leapt again!

      In the aerial encore sheer exuberance burned!

Burning life-joy free and unconstrained.

   Here no zoo fish feeding.  Leap for leaping's love.  This same,

      could I, murky ocean tugging at my ankles, learn?

Today I had a rich time worshipping at Grace Bible Church in Pleasant Hill.  Tomorrow we head off to Minnesota for Susan's family reunion, and then it is off to Wales.

I think of you all with great affection!

Phase One Comes To A Marvelous End

The first phase of my sabbatical comes to an end today.  This phase was the quiet home front phase.  The kids were finishing school, and I had a lot of time to write, reflect, read, and enjoy being home without the usual pressures of our busy lives.  

I finished the first draft of my big poem project called The Cast.  It is a 40 stanza poem that features 38 characters from the Bible and culminates in Jesus.  It is a creative way of telling the whole story of God's great redemption for the cosmos.  I have included a commentary section that gives insight into the many Biblical allusions and some of the denser lines.  I will now spend the rest of the summer editing it and preparing it for printing.

I have also made great strides in a collection of poetry featuring my favorite old poems and a bunch of poems written in the last year.  This chapbook is called Clock Hands Never Catching.  I will continue to revise the poems in the book, and add new ones, as the summer progresses.  I hope to also print this little book at the end of the summer.

Oh, I am having too much fun.

The next phase of the sabbatical begins tomorrow.  We head as a family to Hawaii for 10 days. Then we are off on a road trip to Minnesota where we will have a family reunion.  From Minneapolis I will fly to Wales to begin my solo two-week adventure following the historic trail of my favorite poet Gerard Manley Hopkins.  I am planning on chronicling my journey in a poetic format, using the structure of Hopkin's greatest poem The Wreck of the Deutschland.  I plan on calling this piece Following Hopkins. (Imagine that!)

Back from Wales, we will head up for a few weeks in Washington to finish out the sabbatical season.

During these days I am also playing with an old idea--that of taking Christina Rossetti's famous poem The Goblin Market and adapting it as a musical for the stage.  I have always felt this particular piece might make for a fantastic, artistic portrayal of the Gospel.

I am reading a lot of Hopkins and about Hopkins these days.  In addition, I am reading the first novel in the Mitford series.  I am slogging through a tough book that is reflecting on theology and art.  It is called Real Presences by George Steiner.

I have visited my brother's church in Vallejo, attended mass at Christ the King Church in Pleasant Hill, walked the trails around the Briones Reservoir, and participated in a surprise 50th Anniversary party for my folks.

The unhurried time with my family is an inexpressible gift.  

Blessings to you all, whoever might be reading these tinkerings.  I saw the new church directory today, and it reminded me what a rare and beloved bunch you all are!  It will be sweet to be with you again at the end of the summer.  But for now, this time away too is a rare sweetness.

Until next post.

Poetry and Painting

I kicked off my official sabbatical with a day trip to the De Young Museum and the Palace of the Legion of Honor: both wonderful art museums in San Francisco.  While at the Legion of Honor I came across William Bougeureau's painting titled Broken Pitcher (1891) (Scroll down and see the painting below).  I was very drawn to the peasant girl in the painting and wondered what might be going on in her life and head that would make her sit there, broken pitcher at her feet, without moving to fix things, to solve her dilemma. I wondered if perhaps she sat there musing over a problem that had no ready answer....

Can't go home without the water.

There, in fits, sleeps red-eyed father.

Vacant mother sent her fetching

with a pitcher cracked all round,

bound to break.  Her bare feet catching,

pitcher swiping rocky ground.

Can't go home without the water.

Without water can't go home.

Better here awhile, alone.

No plan now. None there to be--

with red-eyes veined from last night's batter,

mother bruised, used up.  All these

mines await her barefoot patter.

Without water can't go home.

Without water, daughter, dare you go?

Save her!  Save her, won't you, Bouguereau?

Place her safely on your canvas

covering her in oils so father's

eyes won't waken mother's antics

when she comes home without water,

without water. Daughter, dare you go?

Welcome to My Sabbatical Blog

I'm glad you have found your way to this blogsite.  This will be my primary way of keeping in touch with my Hillside family throughout the term of my sabbatical: May 21 through the end of August, 2008.  

Those who know me know that I sometimes go by the name of Tito Tinkstrom.  Well, this site will be a dabbling playground for spontaneous Tinkstromian tinkerings of all kinds: hopefully touching theology, art, poetry, Hawaii, Wales, Hopkins, cross-country traveling, family reunions, books, aesthetics, ministry, family, life, and who knows what else.

There might end up being many posts.  There might end up being very few.  We'll just have to see how things tinker along.  Until then, 

fare well as you go, wind behind you, hope ahead.

In Hidden Places, With Names Unknown

Let's tinker with the notion that only powerful people in powerful places move the engines of the world.  Sometimes it is that a cataclysmic avalanche starts with the smallest fall-from-branch snow-tuft.

Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote a wonderful poem called St. Alphonsus Rodriguez.  It is about a Jesuit priest (1532-1617) who did nothing spectacular in the world's eyes throughout his long career.  He was merely a humble door porter at a college in Majorca for 46 years.  (Majorca is an island belonging to Spain). He was known for having profound impact on those around him. He was canonized by the Catholic Church in 1887.

But in the Kingdom of God--surprise, surprise--it is often in the overlooked corners with the understated folks where God is doing something profound and vital and world-altering.  With praying door porters. And store clerks, and electricians, and accountants, and middle-school students, and wandering poets. Oh, He uses kings and presidents and CEO's as well.

The point is that He is the point. He can make rocks cry out, donkeys speak, storms sit still, and heavens declare glory.  And if He can do that, He can use Alfonso.  He can make your life and my life sing.  The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me (Psalm 138:8)!

And now the poem:

Honor is flashed off exploit, so we say;

And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield

Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field,

And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day.

On Christ they do and on the martyr may;

But be the war within, the brand we wield

Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled,

Earth hears no hurtle then from fiercest fray.

Yet God (that hews mountain and continent,

Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,

Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)

Could crowd career with conquest while there went

Those years and years by of world without event

That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.