Fire and Water: The tension between Destruction and Creativity

Fall has officially graced the Northwest with its chilly nights and cool, foggy morrnings that gloriously morph into sunny afternoons. I actually really love the bi-polarity of the grey, melancholy morrnings and the cheerful, azurine afternoon skies. The sunsets during this time of year are a like a delicious nightcap to a textured day woven with blues and reds. I walked the short distance to Safeway last night in a search for drink to complement our Pizza dinner and needed to shield my eyes from the blazing sun at 6:30 in the evening. The sun appeared strong enough that it might leap down onto earth and bring both light and destruction. Perhaps it was a foreshadowing...
I made the walk back from Safeway, arriving home to a deliciously smelling kitchen full of Italian sausage aroma, and began cutting up broccoli, with my Safeway purchase of Hansen's diet root beer in hand when I heard blood-curdliing screams coming from outside. I tuned my ears and listened closer, as I tried to distinguish whether the cries were one of joy or one of terror (the threshold between the two can often be narrow). After a few seconds, it registered that it was a scream of terror, and I quickly opened the door to our porch and heard a woman's desperate shrieks as she stood by the side of the road with her Golden Retriever, watching her home go up in flames. I quickly alerted Joel, who was on the phone, that we needed to call 911.
We ran out to the sidewalk, as there were many neighbors already responding to her hysterical shrieks. She had just emerged from her house and was limping away from it at the encouragement of the nextdoor neighbors. She was convulsing and gasping for air, as the shock and utter terror was too much to take in.
My eyes filled with tears as I watched in horror the angry orange flames consuming her house. Less than 10 minutes ago, I had walked by and there had been peace. Life has a way of turning in on itself within seconds to reveal its destructive underbelly.

There is something about fire that deeply disturbs me. It always has, since I was young. Burned out houses have always intrigued me in a dark sense. There is something haunting about them. After the immanent destruction, only bones are left: the life and spirit that reside are vanished. Apart from the obvious loss of keepsakes like photos, for example, there is something symbolic about fire that is so disturbing. I felt so deeply for the horror that was taking place in front of this woman's eyes. All I could do was say a prayer for her, as several people were already gathered around her. I can only imagine how overwhelmed she must feel. Life is so fragile, no? There is so much that can easily slip from our perceived control. May we have a secure peace in spite of the precariousness of life. Praise to Christ in whom all things hold together. In the same breath, though, I must say that I do not understand how this can be when there is so much destruction.

Yet I find hope in that often destruction can give way to life. Destruction is never the final story. That is what I praise God for, yet I weep for the woman who has must find the strength to begin again. She is without a home. It must feel so disorienting to have life stand still; to have to locate oneself in the midst of the void that is created when belonging and memories and place are ruined. God, may you be near to her in a tangible and experiential way. Be near to all of us who constantly walk the tension between destruction and creativity, each one flowing into the other. May we pay attention to our own destructive tendencies that lie dormant, like dry grass so vulnerable to the stray flame. Be our water, Lord, in the midst of this dry land.

Joel and Lauren Cannon Beach Aug07

West Coast summer excursions and Kayaking foibles

It was difficult to get back into the routine of school largely because the summer was so much fun. As soon as classes were out at Mars Hill on June 28th, it was ready-set-go to pack the outdoor activities into approximately the ten-week window of sun that the Pacific Northwest is blessed to receive. Joel and I headed back to Michigan for the 4th of July and enjoyed Kathy's homemade apple pie and corn on the cob, and many laughs with family, and some dang good Margaritas with Abbey and John, and some stellar fireworks, and an All-American day at the Lake.
The end of July brought a long weekend trip out to Montana to visit Josh Vandermeer at the outdoor adventure camp he works at. The drive through eastern Washington and Idaho felt like we were outlaws on the western prairie, driving through the desert heat with the full moon overhead. I always find it quite fascinating that once you drive over the Pass, in about 50 miles the desert creeps up on you unexpectedly. it feels like being on a movie set, I think--the ability to be transported into a different environment within a matter of minutes. I love it. The desert is so mystical to me, and it was refreshing in a hot and dry sort of way because Seattle had been so saturated with rain this summer. I love extreme temperatures because there's no guesswork involved in what to wear: hot= tank tops, Tevas, swimsuits, lots of water; cold=sweaters, heavy coats, Grande Mochas. Seattle is not so straightforward--even the weather here is passive-aggressive!

Back to Montana--it was an amazing weekend: white-water rafting, kayaking, and other sorts of wild activities such as going down through the rapids completely underwater in my kayak because I panicked and didn't wet-exit.... Very frightening experience because it was my first time white-water Kayaking. Josh ended up flipping me over when I had been underwater for about a minute because I lost my presence of mind. I am thankful that nothing worse happened, but the experience made me think just how paralyzed I can get in the midst of intense experiences, and how easy it can be for fear to rule me. God was quite near that weekend as He used that experience to give me a fuller picture of what it means to be at the end of myself, not able to do anything, needing someone to intervene. The simple truth of Christ as Savior impacted me in a new way. I have never had the experience of totally being at the end of myself and my perceived resources. It made me so thankful for each breath that I am granted each moment... that I deserve nothing that has not been given as a gift through the Lord. Praise God that He sustains the earth and loves us enough to intervene for our need. He is a good God, and being in nature has such a way of speaking spiritual truths to me.

In August, Joel's sister Laura was out here visiting Joel and I, as well as her boyfriend Brent (the three of us are the ones in the hotspring--Joel's taking the picture). We spent time camping and lodging at the Crescent Lake Lodge, and travelled to the most northwest point in the continental U.S., Cape Flattery, WA. Magnificent ocean, and caves and rocks, and bright orange starfish on the rocks. On our anniversary, we travelled to Kalaloch on the Pacific Ocean. Oceans have a way of making me feel like I'm about 6 years old--I get very giddy and I can hardly contain my excitement. Once we went down to the beach and discovered the water was actually warm enough to go in, we raced up back to the car as fast as we could to get our suits and play in the water!! It was glorious.

The weekend after that, we went down to Cannon Beach, OR, to have another beach excursion, as you can see below. The water was azure-blue, and amid the grey rocks and green trees, it was a color kaleidoscope. I love the ruggedness of the Pacific Coast. I am at home here.

The perfect blend of dorkiness and endearment

Does the title of our new literary playground sound like a best seller? I thought it sounded a bit Anne of Green Gables-esque, or perhaps a bit more Tom Sawyer-esque. My first publication on my very first blog! It feels quite strange to be writing things that potentially other people could be reading (that is, if they can get past the cheechy title (that's a Luke Abernathy-ism, and that was the first adjective that came to mind--- "Cheechy," by the way, is a nice blend of both dorkiness and endearment, as I understand it--those are two qualities that I personally aim to strive for, so hopefullly every entry will have the perfect proportions of both).
Anyway, I was getting a burst of creative energy tonight after seeing Over the Rhine at the Triple Door in Seattle, and just felt a blog could be a good way to get my thoughts flowing, and also display Joel's really great photos that he takes of the beauty here in Seattle. So for those of you who have been hooked by my blog title, please continue to check back and see exactly what kind of adventures do happen on Admiral Way....
I do have to say a couple of words about Over the Rhine, though, before I sign off. They never fail to inspire me and move me to tears and laughter... they are a band that has journeyed with me for about ten years now. I was first introduced to them when I was 16 years old by Ryan Russey back in Michigan on a late-August evening after Cross-Country practice. The album was Good-Dog/ Bad-Dog, and it grew on me in much the same way that dark-roast Sumatra and Cabernet Sauvignon did in their earthy and musky way; it's like something surprising that crawls into your skin that you're not quite sure about at first, but makes itself at home (okay, it sounded like I was just describing a parasite). You know what I mean. I was hooked from that summer of 1997 on... and It's been a lovely decade.