every piece of every puzzle has a place…

“Do you ever feel like life is pushing us toward something,
some greater purpose?”

Spencer Stone

Clint Eastwood said it was just a story about ordinary people doing extraordinary things.
And he was right.

And whereas the majority of the movie 15:17 to Paris is basically the lead-up backstory
to the real-life terror attack which unfolded that fateful August evening in 2015 aboard
a Thalys train bound for Paris…
The movie, the story, is more or less, a finished puzzle.

Rather it’s the pieces to this completed puzzle that’s really what’s important.
And these pieces are the lives of three boys who grew up to be in the right place
at the right time…not by odds but by Divine direction.

And if you doubt that, think of each incidence during the courses of the lives of three boys–
think of their ups and downs, their directions, their troubles, and failures.
Think of their lifelong friendship, think of the coming together of each
individual puzzle piece which could only fit together one way, and one way only.

Terror events that end happily…meaning that the bad guys are apprehended,
and where there may be wounded– no one dies…The setting rather is an uncrowded train
full of individuals on holiday or simply commuters and is not a crowded concert hall,
not a crowded street, not a large office building…
these events readily fade more rapidly versus the larger and more televised terror melees
which we live with for years.

Such is a reason as to why telling this story is important.

The movie has received less than stellar reviews.

Clint Eastwood, as director, is taking a lot of heat for producing what is being
perceived as an uncharacteristically poor performing film.
His choice to use the actual boys, who are indeed the real-life heroes,
is being seen as a near catastrophic move for the making or breaking of the film…
which is being seen, more or less, as breaking.

Whereas Eastwood had cast Tom Hanks in the role of Sully Sullenberger in his movie
about the pilot who successfully ‘crash’ landed a fully loaded passenger plane
on the Hudson River, a choice which most critics saw as genius,
here he opted to use nonactors.
A less than genius move so say the critics.

Yes, the movie is a little slow.
Yes, the boys are a little stiff—but they aren’t actors…
A little fact I actually found welcoming.

The flow of the tale is a little awkward bouncing between present and past, past and present.
But you know, I didn’t want to see an actor’s portrayal of this story, I wanted the real deal.
I didn’t want Hollywood, I wanted the nitty gritty of the actual, not the glamorized fictional.

Now we all know I loved the movie the Darkest Hour—but there were many liberties taken
with the historical truth in that film.
Scenes that were totally fictional, cloyingly sentimental which played directly to
the viewer’s emotions.

15:17 to Paris was just what it was…real, raw and unpolished.

However it was what played out in each one of these boys lives,
from the first day they met in junior high, down to what lead each one of them to be on
that particular train on that particular evening of that particular year…
which was the catalyst for preventing a horrendous catastrophe.

The pieces of the puzzle were put into motion long before August 21, 2015.

It’s the details of these three boys lives, the hand of God, which rested on each of them,
the prayers and faith of parents which all catapulted them, leading them to that particular
train coming out of Amsterdam taking them to Paris,
a city they had been very reluctant to visit.

Each puzzle piece as seen by the nonbeliever, the jaded and skeptic would simply
be seen as coincidental.

Coincidence that Stone did not make his hoped-for area of focus with the Pararescue team
due to a lack of depth perception.
This leads him rather reluctantly and begrudgingly to take coursework in paramedics…
of which came into play as he held his hand deep in the neck on the bleeding carotid artery
of the shooting victim on the train, keeping this man alive versus his bleeding out.

A life of failures, slamming closed doors, knocks and hard licks all preparing each
ordinary boy, now grown man, pushing them toward the extraordinary.

Extraordinary by the ordinary, something Eastwood reminds each of us in the sharing
of this real-life story with the real-life individuals involved.
Nothing fancy, nothing glamorous, nothing high tech nor over the top.

This has been an important reminder for me which I suspect will be an important
reminder for many of us.

This is not a Hollywood type of movie.
This is not an Oscar would-be movie.
I doubt Eastwood considered such or perhaps didn’t care about such when wanting to
remind us of the whats and whys when it comes to the making of an ordinary puzzle piece.
Puzzle pieces that have each been pre-ordained to fit together.

Or at least that’s how I see it.

May each of us who are indeed ordinary step up to the extraordinary when we are so called.

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
John 15:13

heightened senses….

“Memory believes before knowing remembers.
William Faulkner

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(Victorian Christmas Greeting card)

Every memory seems more keen.
Every sight seems more bright.
Every tear seems more heavy.
Every scent seems more strong.
Every sound seems more bold.
Every heartache seems more piercing.
Every loss seems more painful.
Every joy seems more complete.
Every touch seems more dear…

Each year, finding ourselves standing before what makes Christmas just that,
Christmas…
Our senses,
our thoughts,
our tastes,
our recollections…
seem hopelessly more intense, more sharp, more profound…

Be that a blessing
or
be that a curse.

Pain is greater.
Suffering is more fierce.
Joy is more contagious.
While satisfaction hangs precariously in the balance.

There are those who gravitate toward this more mystical and magical time
full of giddiness and glee…
while others wish to close their eyes,
not openning them again until mid January.

The sensory overload can be overtly overwhelming or palpably underwhelming.

And yet it is in that overload, be it over or under,
that we actually become more….
raw…
more open…
and even more vulnerable.

And it is in that vulnerability that the ego slightly abates….
the guard slips ever so quietly,
While pretense evaporates as the dew in first light…
As we are splayed wide open.

And it is in that moment of pure raw vulnerability that
the heart finally realigns,
beating rhythmically for the first time since the tragic Fall,
as it is once again, albeit briefly, in sync with all of Creation…

For no word from God will ever fail.”
Luke 1:37

not just my nerves

But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
to dry one’s eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.

Robert Browning

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(the remains of fallen acorns / Julie Cook / 2016)

As I continue dealing with this nerve pain business from these ruptured discs of mine…
waiting for the nerve block to do something…
as they said it could be up to a week…
that being today…as I am not exactly holding my breath…
I can’t help but think about the whole business of nerves…
of which is the craziest thing…

The pain is like a searing burning rawness.
With just the slightest touch from clothes or whatever causing severe pain…
It’s as if the skin has been flayed open and something or someone is sadisticaly rubbing
or sawing into the raw vulnerable flesh.
But when I look, thinking surely the skin will be red, angry and swollen,
with signs of grave irritation…
I am met with perfectly intact and non inflamed skin.

It’s crazy that things can look so very normal yet the slightest touch of mere cloth
can send excruciating waves of irritation…

Those who have limbs amputated report that there is often lingering ghost pain associated
with the now missing limb—that the brain and the now cut off nerves still register
that the limb remains…

These bodies of ours are indeed resilient yet fragile all at the same time…

And all of this nerve business takes me back to something I read quite sometime ago
regarding the Crucifixion.
In particular the crowning of the thorns.

Paul Badde is a German journalist who wrote for the paper Der Spiegel.
I actually became acquainted with his work after reading a book he’d written,
The Face of God.
Badde is an ardent believer in the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin as well as the
burial face cloth of Jesus, known as the Veil of Manoppello or the Veil of Veronica.

Now it matters not whether you agree or you don’t with the idea of these cloths being
the actual burial cloths of Jesus…
That is not the issue here at hand…
No debate as to is it or isn’t it–
although I do tend to lean toward the line of the plausible…
that is not our issue.

Nerves are the issue and it is to nerves that took my mind back to reading
Mr. Badde’s books…

Mr Badde describes in detail how the blood accumulated on the cloths and why the patterns
are as they are…
From the crown of the head all the way down to the heels of the feet.
All with a very in-depth and forensic type of explanation.
Beginning with the effects that the cap of thrones would have had on a person who was
unfortunate enough to have had such jammed upon their head.

At the time that I read Mr. Badde’s as well as other explanations for the bodily
damage administered first by flagellation, beatings, whippings, hittings, punctures, nails
and then ultimately a crucifixion…
I have had to actually stop reading, putting down the particular book or article
as the description was so graphic and stomach turning.

It’s one thing to hear that ‘Jesus was crucified,’
it’s something else entirely when you read a forensic detail of what
actually takes place in and to the body of the one being crucified.

The following is a short explanation of the crowning of thorns as offered by
Dr. Frederick T. Zugibe
Dr. Zugibe is an expert in forensic pathology and was the Chief Medical Officer of
Rockwood County, New York, from 1969 to 2003.
He is an Adjunct Associate Professor at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons.
For the past twenty years,
he has been the President of the Association of Scientists and Scholars International
for the Shroud of Turin.

“The nerve supply for pain perception to the head region is distributed by branches of two major nerves: the trigeminal nerve, which essentially supplies the front half of the head, and the greater occipital branch, which supplies the back half of the head.” 6 These two nerves enervate all areas of the head and face.
The trigeminal nerve, also known as the fifth cranial nerve, runs through the face, eyes,
nose, mouth, and jaws. Irritation of this nerve by the crown of thorns would have
caused a condition called trigeminal neuralgia or tic douloureux.
This condition causes severe facial pain that may be triggered by light touch,
swallowing, eating, talking, temperature changes, and exposure to wind.
Stabbing pain radiates around the eyes, over the forehead, the upper lip, nose,
cheek, the side of the tongue and the lower lip. Spasmodic episodes of stabbing,
lancinating, and explosive pain are often more agonizing during times of fatigue or tension.
It is said to be the worst pain that anyone can experience.

As the soldiers struck Jesus on His head with reeds,
He would have felt excruciating pains across His face and deep into His ears,
much like sensations from a hot poker or electric shock.
These pains would have been felt all the way to Calvary and while on the Cross.
As He walked and fell, as He was pushed and shoved, as He moved any part of His face,
and as the slightest breeze touched His face, new waves of intense pain would have been triggered.
The pain would have intensified His state of traumatic shock.
The thorns would have cut into the large supply of blood vessels in the head area.
Jesus would have bled profusely, contributing to increasing hypovolemic shock.
He would have been growing increasingly weak and light-headed.
As well, He would have bouts of vomiting, shortness of breath,
and unsteadiness as hypovolemic and traumatic shock intensified.

So now, through a very small window, I can slightly to begin to wrap my brain around
some semblance of understanding of that initial nerve pain Jesus endured as a cap comprised of
5cm long thorns was shoved down upon his head…
puncturing the scalp, the forehead and temple while penetrating deeply into those
precious precarious nerves…

Just as those who battle diabetic nerve pain…
or any other sort of nerve condition or trauma…can begin to grasp a portion of the magnitude
of pain…endured by one for all

Doesn’t make things any better, any more tolerable nor even comforting…
but in the slightest sense, there is a deeper knowledge when reading… Jesus suffered…

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial,
for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life,
which God has promised to those who love him.
James 1:12

The work in becoming

I have but shadowed forth my intense longing to lose myself in the Eternal and become merely a lump of clay in the Potter’s divine hands so that my service may become more certain because uninterrupted by the baser self in me.”
Mahatma Gandhi

“I want to help you to grow as beautiful as God
meant you to be when He thought of you first.”

― George MacDonald

Yet you, Lord, are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand.

Isaiah 64:8

DSCN1720
(an area of bog being dug…peat bogs, the spongy base which makes up so much of Ireland is dug up, cut or formed into bricks, dried and used for fuel, it is also becoming a medium for artists who sculpt and carve beautiful images from the intense black bog / somewhere along Gleann Cholm Cille / County Donegal, Ireland / Julie Cook / 2015)

Any potter, ceramist, or sculptor will tell you that before there is a mug, a plate, a bowl, a vase, a statue, a figurine, a sculpture…
there is a lot of digging, mixing, processing, rolling, watering, wedging, pushing, shoving, beating, slapping, pinching, moulding, slamming, overlapping, smashing, smushing, forming, pulling, prying, poking, smoothing, burning, cooking, heating, coloring, glazing….

Clay…before it becomes something of beauty or of purpose, or even both, must first go through a complete overhaul–both physically as well as molecularly. It is considered to be a perfect medium in the minds of many an artist as it is forgiving, up to a point, and can be transformed into almost anything…

A naturally occurring raw product taken directly from the earth, add in a little refinement, then placed in just the right hands, a seemingly magical if not mystical transformation from mere dirt and a little water, emerges into something of both practical use and amazing beauty. A new creation emerging from something initially so simple, mostly overlooked and certainly taken for granted… with just the needed and necessary work, results in an amazing metamorphosis.

Is it then any wonder that man is so often compared to clay which has been given over the hands of the master Creator?
That which was formed from dust and ash…
In the heavenly eyes of the One True Creator, a raw natural product, incomplete and in great need of forming, shaping, prodding, moulding, firing and finishing…

That when eventually transformed, becomes a thing of beauty that is both strong and fragile all rolled into one.

We live our entire lives in the hands of the One who works tirelessly and lovingly forming, shaping, reshaping, heating and coaxing out that which is within.
Forever patient, as is any potter, He tenderly yet persistently works and reworks His clay into a thing of wonder.

It is however a life long process, one not always realized—this forming, moulding, making and becoming….
At times it is most painful and difficult, trying and even excruciating… yet when all is said and done, the final result is indeed a treasure to behold…

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

Psalm 139:15-16

Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.”
So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.
But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands;
so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.
Then the word of the Lord came to me.
He said, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?” declares the Lord. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel.
Jeremiah 8:2-6