Summer poses me many obstacles; my ability to harness my faculties and reign in time seems just impossible. I wonder sometimes if the only season for real contemplation comes when the leaves have fallen and my soul becomes famished for repose. The warming days and the ever-presented opportunities of the summer overwhelm my senses, and when I sit down with the pen it's as if its longings must simply wait. I've worked several long days straight with sickness in my body, and the trivial demands of my job had seemed to reach their pinnacle of frivolity. Today was a wedding and weddings are fun for me. I realize that I am blasted detective of the human soul, and so very intrigued by family makeup and genealogical blending through the generations. I can't help myself; people are just so interesting. A Moroccan Jew was marrying an Israeli Jew this day, and amongst the decadent celebration, my eyes laid claim to the booklets upon the tables. Hebrew text inscribed the oaths of their God to their people long ago. They were beautiful laden with sketches and script, and I couldn't help but think on the Old Testament proclamations. The words were spoken by iron-chested, soft hearted men whose lives had been radically transformed by their personal interaction with a holy, majestic, and awe-inspiring God. Again I come back to Psalm 90 and think of Moses' earnestly with his people. A generation come and gone and the tendency of humanity is always to forget. We forget to be thankful, forget to stop and ponder, smell, think, dream, love, but mostly we forget--or deny from whence we've come, and whose hand brought us out and lead us forth.

I had a marvelous time chatting with two older gentlemen that were brothers from Morocco who grew up in Israel. They communicated of their lives in an anti-semitic world as Jews. My heart went out to them, but of course my heart beat with Jeshua in my mouth. Truly, Moses must have known how truly vulnerable this generation was, and how forgetful. I think this day of these lines: Psalm 90:16 "Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children. 17 Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!" May His favor be upon us indeed, and may He give permanence to the work of our hearts through our hands.

My life has seemed to speed on by like the 2D clicks of those old photo viewfinders. We adopted a lamb last week named Penelope, and as quickly as she doubled her weight, she moved along to a new home. Much joy came with her little hoof clicks and sweet bleats, and as time has elapsed so have my evaporating thoughts.
This morning time hung a little, and these verses seized me: "My heart overflows with a good theme; I address my verses to the King; My tongue is the pen of a ready writer." (Psalm 45:1).