Blog Anniversary, In Memorial
This day is the fifth anniversary of this blog which I started and continue as a memorial to my father, Milton Heitzman, who was born on October 15, 1917. His spiritual presence affirms my blather here. He loved history and reading stories, promising always to write one, but he was busy following that love thread Jesus commanded. He was a wanderer and a mystic, always a pastor, sometimes a father. In the 1950’s he intended to visit every church in the United States, counting every person for the National Council of Churches. I’ve seen the flyer he left now in many old church archives. My mother, Rosie, was a poet and a very fine artist who left me lots of art supplies. Milt and Rosie died together in a car crash on May 14, 1997.
Historical Setting, 631 C.E. A stopping place in the travels
Greg explains, the three birds will return to Paris with information gleaned by spying. While we seem to pretend ourselves into the roles of travelers from Gaul as our “cover,” it is also who we actually are. Here we visit the ancient life of the Romans, enjoying all the amenities of the baths — the games — a good stretch after the traveling days — the drenching in the waters — the spa — the food and drink. Greg and Gaillard enjoy massage. I’m too recent in grief to allow myself the healing touch of a stranger.
It will be a good sleep. Except in the privacy of this little room I hear Greg and Gaillard whispering their finds. What have they learned here from small talk with the servants about the other travelers at the marketplace buying swords and armor? Tomorrow the boys will release the first bird with its feathers dyed as code for armies from the East.
Heraclius’s war against the Persians left those armies beaten three years ago, but now the Persians are rising with a new monotheism driving their religious fervor. The vanguard of their mighty soldier’s visits to armorers, fitting out the army of Allah but for the time being they are only warring in Arabia.
Three birds are nestled here in the bird box each marked with a different color: yellow for the Wends, the Slavs, our near neighbor; green for the East; and blue for the North. The bird marked with green signals no threat from the East just now. There is no bird for the South since Iberia is already at war with Gaul.
This morning, the bird is released that signals no worries from the armies against Christ in the East.
Dear God, are you listening too? Do you see us here traveling to find the swordsmith? Where is the armorer for that unbounded love Jesus taught? I know you embrace the whole world in your love; what more can a prayer ask? It is the human numbness that can strategize warring obliteration and yet we still have no imagination for an all-encompassing love. The creatures we drag to our wars, the birds, the horses, the tinies, the unnoticed critters and growing things, all burn up the same as people do in war fires, and yet you are, for all of us, our breath of life. Why do people choose war and fail to breath? Teach us. Amen.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 