Vesuvius and the virtual garden

Dear Monty,

An explosion of pyroclastic proportions
Up from the depths
Frustration pent up
The gas of conflagration -
Fire and brimstone.

I struggle to control the frustration I feel.

What would the stones have cried out ?
Would they have cried ; 'Save!'?
Or would they have cried a lament, a loud wail as they watched the agent of their release about to suffer ?

The title given by men to Luke chapter 19 is : 'The triumphal entry'

There was in fact very little to be triumphant about. Here was Christ entering the City of Jerusalem knowing our true hearts and what was to become of both him and the glittering city.
Jonah saw a city spared after reluctantly preaching repentance, but Christ knew this city was heading for destruction, because they were about to take out the capstone.

The stones could indeed have cried out. He defended those followers that did cry out because of the miracles they had seen, but it was a short-lived joy. Joy based solely on miracles usually is.
Soon the memory of the miracles in those minds faded when the trouble came, and I in no way blame them as I am the same. I know my own heart.

The amazing thing about Christ is that he accepts the weak in spirit, whereas we are always looking for evidence in each other of  'power'.

Christ accepted the man who could not even look up, let alone lift his hands up in praise in the temple, why ? Because he could see his own heart.

He accepted the dishonest tax collector, the Gentile woman looking for crumbs and the returning son, downcast and humiliated by his own stupidity.

These Christ accepted.

We are not Pharisees, just because we are silent. We are struggling with life and faith. We go into our rooms and quietly give thanks. It is what is on the inside, not what is on the outside that counts. Perhaps that is what he meant by the Kingdom of God not being visible.

Now that this Vesuvius has erupted again, the pressure is off.

Thinking of gardens helps. It was the exhibition of fresco's from Pompeii which gave me the idea of using fresco panels (larger than my orchid fresco's), to depict the garden over the seasons, a kind of virtual coal tip cloister garden. Recording the arrivals and departures of flora and fauna, the change in character. A documentary in plaster of the insects, birds and flora found in this little patch of ground.

This gives me the courage to carry on.



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