The Brewery Where I Go to Church

This is the brewery where I attend church in Denver. Actually, it has been converted to a student center that serves the colleges in Denver, and they rent major space to City Presbyterian Church. Today was my third day to attend services there. They have two services each Sunday, one at 8:30 and the other at 11:00, with Sunday School between. Great preaching!

T&T

Hunting Brambles

“No, there are no brambles in the park,” said the locals, “brambles” being the Scots word for blackberries.

Unconvinced, he nonetheless took the boy out to look for brambles. The boy needed a day out, an adventure, so off they went to see for themselves. The boy held the basket and his older friend’s hand.

Was the sky overcast that day? Memory paints it thus, but “overcast” is the default setting for Aberdeenshire skies, except in high summer. Since bramble season is runs form June through September, the skies may well have been clear. In any case, it wasn’t raining, which meant that it had been raining recently and would be again soon.

Down past the Post Office and General Store, to the corner and catty-cornered across to the church, past the yews and stones in the church-yard, then into the playground of the Park. At the opposite corner of the Park, behind the soccer field stood a copse of pines and larches, holding the suspicion of brambles. The companions chatted about whatever weighty matters filled the world of a 3-year-old. They were dressed against the chill and did not notice it.

The copse was tall and light-filled. The undergrowth admitted paths, and did indeed contain brambles in full fruit, sweet, black, plump, ready for eating and baking, should any berries remain from immediate consumption. And, yes, there were plenty for then and later. They plucked and ate and filled the basket. Are there ever enough berries in the world? Maybe not, but that day’s crop filled the basket with enough for a pie later. The boy spilled the entire contents once, as boys of that age may be predicted to do, but the outing was about adventure, not efficiency. Between them they picked up the spillage, and the boy, aware of his appointed task, carried the basket safely from the copse to his parents’ flat above the General Store and Post Office, rewarded with their approval and with blackberry crumble for desert.

The older friend later wrote some papers in Scotland, but their significance has faded when compared with that hunt for brambles.

Sunset over the Rockies, seen from Sloan’s Lake

Fading of sunshine explodes in a glory,
splits fragments of orange,
to robe the high peaks in imperial purple.
Above and below shout the shards of bright sunlight from heaven,
declining from sight yet proclaiming the victory won, ever winning,
no darkness can counter,
though the interim threatens to drown all our hopes
in the fear of abandonment.
He will return, righteous, reigning, resplendent.

Thursday Sunset

The route to King Sooper’s (grocery store) from the house where I am staying in Denver goes around Sloan’s Lake. Last night’s trip to the store and back occurred just after sunset. As I drove along the east side of the lake, the sunset above the mountains was brilliant orange, the lake was brilliant orange, and the mountains between water and sky were deep purple. Ab-so-lutely, gob-smackingly amazing. The colors lasted 5 or 10 minutes. What a gift, to have seen this and to remember the One who made it.