1001 Nights

Idea #21 (Not Too Late)
words and music: Detweiler
recording: OHIO

Till we lay these weapons at your feet, Lord
How long, how long
Till we call all hatred obsolete, Lord
How long, how long

Till we walk like lovers thru Bethlehem
How long, how long
Till the lion lies down with the lamb, Lord
How long, how long

Too late
I know it's not too late
To wrestle with this angel
Higher and higher
Don't let go
Higher and higher
Before we know
How does it end
How does it end
We're all riding on the last train
Trying to find our way home again

Till we wash the blood from the hands of our fathers
How long
We're all sisters and brothers, sons and daughters
How long, how long
Our eyes all shine in different colors we cry, Lord
How long
Our dreams our tears are all the same by and by, Lord
How long, how long

Too late
I know it's not too late
To climb up Jacob's ladder
Higher and higher
Don't let go
Higher and higher
Before we know
How does it end
How does it end
We're all riding on the last train
Trying to find our way home again

It's not too late
****

Christmastime is here, happiness and cheer...
And I find myself in the midwest again, with more than my mindset. The last few days have been spent in balmy Indianapolis, and good grief it is different from Denver. I arrived on the 22nd, after 15.25 hours in the troops (support!), via I-70. And let me say, it was a short day, solstice buddies. The longest night of the year, even.

Tomorrow I will go to the mitten, as McDavid refers to it now. Dan and I bought cheap gifts today, and I gave a massage to Eunice. I've been playing video games, and laughing with my bro, and eating a lot. And attending extended family Christmas parties, where I get pelted in the neck by John Hay Jr.'s wrapping paper attacks. There are lots of children, and fudge, and divinity, and loud people yelling and being way too close to each other. My family doesn't know how to interact in any other way. And there are entirely too many of us. And oddly enough, there was no caroling this year.

I had this whole thing planned up about Gene Autry and Elvis and how ridiculous some things are, but what it comes down to is that I just want Christ to come. In the same way that he came in a manger, almost 2010 years ago now. I want him to come in this moment, then again tomorrow and finally at the end of all things, the beginning of all things. Perhaps, like the greek epics, even en media res. The creation, the advent, the consummation and the eschaton thundering together in mighty chorus, telling the old old story. Telling my story, where trees grow on both sides of the river, and hold forbidden fruit. The story that starts in a garden and ends in a city. And I am there, and God is there, and he is the only light. The light of the world.