Italy and Girasole

Sunflower faces 

“Sunflowers earned their name due to a curious process called heliotropism. During the budding stage of growth, the heads of nearly all sunflowers face east at dawn, and follow the sun throughout the day, facing west at dusk” (an excerpt from West Coast Seeds).

“… as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).

Italia
I love Italy. I spent many a glorious sunny summer there. One of my favourite recollections, were the sunflower faces, turned in unison, tipped toward the fiery globe sun and its hot kisses. Fields of yellow, with black faces on stocks of leafy vibrant green, reaching upward with blue sky expanse in all directions, dotted with farm houses and towns here and there: it delights me to recall the girasole, as they are called in Italian.

He never did see his mother again
I hate the stories. I spent many an hour, listening to my father, speak about Albania, escaping oppression and killing some communists on his way out, beginning at the age of 12. He never did see his mother again. He held the title Baron in Albania, and all that he and his family had, was taken from them. This, is not an uncommon story and perhaps, you recall similar ones from your childhood, dear reader?

Turning to The Son for light

We must not underestimate 
He was a proud man, and started from what is called scratch, here in Canada. Freedom was everything to him: he fought for it here too, as a foreigner, being mocked on the streets of London when he chose to speak his native tongue with Albanian friends. My father was fluent in five languages, and worked as a translator of English in his youth. The moral of this story, is we must not underestimate one another, wouldn’t you agree?

Isolated from fellow humans
Italy is confined, confused, hurt and hurting. They cannot leave their homes, they cannot populate cafes or beach houses or go freely here, or there, despite the gorgeous invitation of the outdoors. They are held captive and I weep for them. As winter turns to spring, what was is never to be again. There is and will be grieving; mourning for the dead. They are policed to protect them from, themselves? and each other. Ironic, that to ensure future relationship, we must be isolated from fellow humans.

This existence is just a check-point
I have fought for freedom since this crisis has arisen. There is a huge part of me that wants to scream stop it, stop propagating lies, we are all alright and this too shall pass and I will not be contained, restricted, held captive, prisoner in my own house. There is another part of me, that cannot turn away from the reality, that cannot help but weep, for the soul sick that will die; passing from this life into eternity, perhaps without knowing, that this existence is a check point, a temporary stay, a vacation in a foreign land. My biggest fear, is that people are held captive by an invisible jailor that they have permitted to hem them in:

I fear extended relationship restriction, hindering us from:

• speaking freedom in Christ to the unsaved
• fellowship with believers

• to being constrained by fear mongers
• to being imposed upon by those that do not know God
• to being subject to the powers that be, without censure
• to being silenced and policed by other citizens