9/8/2021 11:51 pm 

Life was - no -

is 

whirling - 

A Wedding,  A House of Love - 

Eternity, A House of God -

 Filled-to-the-brim Life.  Days upon days,

It is good.

Yet, tonight I sit alone "getting work done" and...

This aching churns and burns in my chest.  

I 

feel 

so 

alone.

I believed he loved me three days ago.  I knew I loved him.

I was surrounded by all of it (the Love).

Soon enough

it will just be one and one, and, 

Tonight I wonder if it's all a lie.  He's still somewhere I can't see.   

The house sits quiet while I wait.  Wait and see..

I don't get to hold on to anything.  

None of it is mine, and I feel a little lost in this quiet house

Tonight.  

 Wyatt:

Like a little cherub,

A soft, loose crown of curls,

Cheeks that squeeze your eyes shut

When you smile so big.

You feel the need to love

Up you get -- you don’t wait --

Making your way around the table

Kissing the knees (as high as you can reach)

One by one, each receives this sweet token.

I know you still shower love

As far as you can reach,

Kissing those you adore however you can --

You keep shining bright,

Pure love and light without hesitation,

It is who you are.

The Woman at the Well

 

                                                     Woman at the well Diptych is a painting by Joan Columbus 

At Jacob's Well

From which she gathered water;

Coming late. An empty vessel.

Not knowing the promise of this font 

was also hers to partake.  

A mark of the consecrated, dug deep into the earth

Was forsaken by brothers and sisters

For, Jerusalem was the Holy Ground.  

She was forgotten --

Deemed too changed to be worthy.

But he waited for her at this place.

He waited, specifically for this woman,

Knowing all she had done.

The Living Water,

Seated upon the symbol

Of the promise,

Picked the forgotten and scorned woman 

to declare: 

God is not a temple.  Is not a place. 

Oh, If thou knewest the Gift of God...

You would drink freely-

Then, making her the conspirator of good news,

He declares;

I am He.  I am here, 

for Her

for Me

for You

Isn't it beautiful? They way He 

Loves each one of us?

Knowing all I have done.

Mid Life Miracle.

10.12.20

Having just come home from a date and feeling peckish, I stood facing the open fridge, searching. 

I heard her voice down the hall. My nineteen year old daughter was playing guitar while singing my eight year old son to sleep. 

Strangely and suddenly, I went back in time. I was sixteen and sitting on the shaggy red carpet in my bedroom. It was one of those days I tried to contemplate my future - one of those times I wondered what my life would bring.  Usually, those visions were fuzzy.  More of a feeling than a picture.  But this time, my young self was getting a vivid glimpse of the adult me, standing in front of the fridge, hearing a pretty song carrying through the hallway. It was such a beautiful sound. Wanting to investigate, I follow the song down the hallway and peek into the bedroom.  A lovely and grown girl, about my age, is playing guitar.  She is familiar, but nothing I could have constructed in my mind. She is singing a song about hope.  I am awed by her.  Above her in a loft bed lays a sweet boy, safely tucked in.  The softest cheek and longest eyelashes peek from the covers.  I want to know him and all about the ample collection of sea shells and rocks that rest on a shelf beneath his bed.  

Sixteen year old me seeing this is thrilled at what her life had become.  She would marvel at the beauty, the goodness.   She would think, "Yes.  This is exactly what I want. To the last detail."  There are other glimpses of the future which would have left young-girl-me utterly terrified.  But this one - this was magic.  

My refrigerator reverie ended, though I was still facing the wide open fridge with my hand mindlessly gripping the handle.  I knew instantly what the vision was, this merciful and strange gift of presence.  So, I stood there a bit longer and accepted it. I let it fill me up.  Brim full.  I said,  "Thank You" and closed the fridge. 

Then, I took my 43 year old self and followed the beautiful sound down the real hallway of my real life so I could see and wonder at it all again. 

Like a Rolling Stone

Yesterday I was driving with my daughter.
We had the music on loud
we were singing.

Like a flash, I saw you- in her place.
I heard your laugh, which I love so much.
We were road-trippin'.  Remember?

Loud music
Bob Dylan
"This is my personal anthem"
you said.  And you sang every word, with feeling.
Swaying, eyes closed.

When you are happy,
the light that shines from you is the
sweetest
warmest.

You introduced me to the White Stripes that day
I became obsessed.
It was a thing we could share,
which was nice, because - let's be honest

We didn't share a whole lot
It's hard for you
To find a place to fit in.
Hard for me, too, to meet you where you are.
The prettiest misfit I ever saw - that's you.
How does it feel?

We all have our stuff, the stuff that makes life hard work.
But your lot, dear girl - it's a puzzle to me.
So I struggle
But not with liking you, or loving you.
You make that really easy.  It's a gift you have, I think.

And so when I saw your vision there
My eyes stung and my heart broke.
Last week I said some things I shouldn't have,
(even though I meant every word).
Still,
I should have taken more time.
I forgot about the fine print-
that part of you that says;

More patience required. 
No, more than that... 
but it's worth it.

I lost sight of the bigger picture.

Pushed too hard, and you say you're through. done.
That's new for me (but probably inevitable).
So now you're in the dark
(again)
And we ever wait.

To hear you laugh again, dear girl.
That would be sweet music.
Because that personal anthem of yours has a few things wrong;

You are known.
You are loved.
You have a home.
And we ever wait.

Monday's Memoir: Mercy Me! (Mercy You.)

I went before the King
bowed, begged, pleaded
pure in intent, hope
despite knowing the impossibility
of restitution in even a lifetime of servitude.

I asked

and all was forgiven.

all.

but when I returned to my day
I noticed, like a piece of food stuck in my teeth,
a gnawing irritation.
an injustice, which

every so often I would pick at
and my irritation would grow.
my soul would burn
with self-righteous entitlement, for

I was right.  I had been wronged.
There was no relief, no changing this.

It wasn't until I told the first story out loud
(about my insurmountable debt that was forgiven
by that great King)

did I see it.

How could I miss it?

What does being right have to do with anything?   
When mercy has been poured over me in full abundance, 
surely I have some wealth to share.

I am no widow clutching her last mite,
no
this mercy, this forgiveness?
infinite

I laughed inside at the thought - the ease of letting it go.
I was light.
I was free.
I was sorry for my blindness.
Best of all, I was filled with love.
and so it was  
Mercy bestowed to me, in even greater proportion.

That was a sweet Sunday.
That was yesterday. 

{Matt. 18:21-35}
 

Baby Dear

I hold him at night
and sometimes pretend
it's every one of my babies
because I ache for each and every one
of those tiny bodies
warm against my heart
nuzzling those soft jawlines
again and for always.

Oh the sweet days past.

But really,
I am so tired.
It's the middle of the night, for heaven's sake
and
to do it again
would be utterly exhausting.

what a lovely paradox a baby brings to the night time.

A Daily Prayer

What makes raising teenagers so scary?
It's because

they start to grow up
branch out
seek their own way

AND
they aren't ready
they know so little about life -
They aren't ready
(I'm not ready)

but it's coming,
the essential and beautiful breakaway

All that is left undone,
Is done. no makeup days.

so you just start with today
look them in the eyes
Love, Love, Love

Teaching, speaking ever so gently (no, even more gently)

Here - you see more than ever-
here are the days when Charity,
that pure love which comes from
He who alone can do the saving

is the greatest of teachers, and the only way that will work-
patience
prayer (lots of prayer)
long suffering
kindness in words, in deed
and also, 
attempts to raise the dead in the morning, and in despair, and in the face of discouragement

It is a holy work
and when I kneel at night
I express gratitude for one more day
one more blessed day to get it right
Help me, I plead.
Help me forgive
Help me to be quick to express happiness, praise, goodness, peace -
Help me LOOK and understand
Help me to know what to do

Because I'm still that kid
who is feeling her own way
and I just want to get this right, despite my weakness.

Oh, my weakness.  Glaring in the face of offspring who are now eye level -
they see them all, more clearly then ever. 

Is it hard?  Raising teenagers?
I don't wish away one moment,

I am so fond of these young people.

In those quiet nights (and mornings and lunchtimes) when my prayers are most earnest
I remember:

I will always be their mother.
It's okay.
You have now.
It's enough time.
Write this day on your heart,  It is a gift just for you,  you blessed (and loved) girl.

and remember,

The sweetest season is the one you're in.
you know this, but only it if you pay attention and filter your days with gratitude.

So pay attention.

What it Means to Love a Good Man

He wakes each morning
with a fast and heavy breathing
it wakes me with a sense of panic

He gets up
That lionhearted soul
determined to slay the dragon of that day

for me
for mine

And at night
His breath is deep like thunder
rumbles about the room

I try to contain my own heavy breathing
lungs struggling to stifle tears
of gratitude
of amazement
of pleading in prayer

He needs his sleep
He needs to be rested

A Mouth Watering Opportunity

Sweetness in work
requires one to
take a bitter first bite of the branch
and chew, for a short time,
breaking up the tough, thick bark -

and then you find the tender, green middle
it is an invigorating sugar
rewarding one with a desire to
keep tasting.

 It is a soft center
-the reason for starting
-the joy in the doing
-an easy nectar

I am a childish soul,
with shallow forsight-
always forgetting the second part.
I pinch my mouth closed,
shake my head side to side.

Sometimes, I attempt to build up the nerve
Turning the stick over and over,
looking for the easiest way to start at it
resisting the intial roughness on my tongue.

The wiser soul does not hesitate
to grasp the scabrous timber
and bite hungrily.
-He knows-
His jaw strengthens
He can chew down thicker, tougher tasks
His capacity to take in sweetness increases
when he does not hesitate.

MM: Simhasana and Other Things I Was Too Timid to Try

there was a boy
he was cute and a year older 
he smiled big and asked me to dance
i was only 11


it was so terrifying
i ran out of the gymnasium
and hid in the hallway, my knees knocking
i couldn't make my knees stop

his friend pled with me to go back in
"he really likes you"
"you'll hurt his feelings"
this did not put me at ease
i just left him standing there

it was because i really liked him
that boy with the big, handsome smile
he never spoke to me again

not even when i was sixteen
and hanging out with his sister
i slept over at their house
she was into yoga and tried to teach me the lion's pose
eyes rolled up, tongue sticking out
it was too intense for me
i was curious, but declined giving it a try

i couldn't sleep that night
i wanted a chance to say i'm sorry,
that he misunderstood my reaction
when he came home all I could muster
was a faint "hi"

i was invisible to him
he was cuter than ever
i kicked myself all night long
for being such a scaredy-cat

{Simhasana - The Lion's Pose}

Monday's Memoir: Slumped with Burning

Louis Lang,  The Invalid

it was nearing october
in a new, old house
my children so young
twins still in diapers and needing a lot of attention

i was ill - a firey fever left me near comatose
utter agony on the couch...
delirious
no medicine
getting worse by the hour
didn't think to get up and call anyone
Sam was gone, can't even remember where

the kids were so hungry
rummaging for bread and whatever
they ended up eating the whole loaf that day
i remember thinking, at least they've had food
they are still alive
it will have to do

and then wondering how on earth
i would rise to change those diapers
i don't know how long it took me
it was a little surreal
it was the feat of the day, diaper changing.

as the day darkened
loneliness and paranoia for my babies overcame me
what have i done?
i realized while laying there,
i don't take care of myself very well when i am sick
i wait too long, let it get too bad

next time, if there is a next time (i dramatically lamented) -
i will nip it in the bud
or call somebody for heaven's sake
for my kids' sake

blurry recollections of a dark day
during a most beautiful time of year.

Another Year Older...

Once you arrived

You made my life attached, for good,

to that which I love

for which I feel completely responsible

and yet cannot really control

I learned what it means to sacrifice

and it wasn't easy for me

to give my body, my whole self

a flesh naturally inclined toward self-comfort

and ease

-but I was happy to do it-

because you were amazing to behold

a wonder which I could call, "My Own"

And still, as I look on

You,  needing me a little less each year

(While I, ever fixed to you)

I am still amazed

You are a wonder

a gift

and true joy

to my soul.

 

Not Too Late

{day 30}

so many people to love
so much more of them i would know -
i feel i must make better use of
this short walk of life 'fore i go.

Temptation

{day 29}

(2) hundred dollar bills
 and truffles (au suisse)
a devlish grin, a handsome offer
a promise of utter bliss

relinquish this game?
(going 6 months long)
time which has been spent
trying to be strong

in resisiting desserts
and sodas and treats
feeling I've already
accomplished a feat

now I can end this
completely risk free!
from this bet that I made
when I was a wee-

-bit out of my mind,
Oh!  what would YOU do?
Take the money and run, or
continue to stay true -

compete?  play the game?
i shall go for the gold!
only problem is,
i'll just be too old

to enjoy the cash spoils,
when this whole thing ends-
should have taken the dough
made the truffles my friend,again.

Hmmmm...

{day 27}

if how i live my day
is a metaphor for how i do my life
then when i am about to die
i will finally notice
i've been wearing my soul inside out
with the tag showing
the whole time

Preaching to the Choir

{day 26}

sang with my friend
in front of old ladies and men
they closed their eyes
they smiled
they tried to mouth the words as we sang them
when it was a sad song, they nodded their heads

sunken into chairs 

room enough in their small, aged laps

to nestle layers of

grief, loss, pain, love, joy, wonder
and a blanket, too.

there wasn't a thing i sang that they didn't know -

the best audience ever.

A a Poem Within a Poem, a Love within a Love

{day 25}

September sun declares
a clean as crystal view
Beloved marveled at the sight line
being able to see so far, so clear
I marveled, once again, at him -
he is always seeing things
I am grateful he stays close

A gathering, a home
fresh babies, sage grandfolk
and all in between -
a buzzing of life and love,
we celebrate births and tell our stories
mother asks her parents to read a Carver poem,
they take turns;

(grandpa) - and did you get what you wanted from this life, even so?
(grandma) - i did.
(grandpa) - and what did you want?
(grandma) - to call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth. 

My mother's mother
choked at the words
they are true in her life -
her man of this world and forever
has loved her fiercely
without rest
theirs is a power undeniable
healing, sanctifying

Later we (My love and I)
faced one another and played music
we tried to find the sweetest songs
everything was new
Beloved sang his heart out

I felt a soothing joy
in this work, in trying to find the right song
for other lover's sweet
to celebrate another life and a love
having just seen, on the clearest day of days
the bounty of my own,

My own beloved state-
I feel to buckle my whole self to the floor
and weep for joy
in gratitude.




*Quoted poem (in italics) is titled,  A Late Fragment, by Raymond Carver

Poor, Poor Ada

{day 24}

It's 4 a.m now
went for my bed at one
little did I know
I was not nearly done

dear Ada is sick
her tummy aches so
writhing and moaning
wond'ring if I should go

to the emergency room
three hours later
feeling no better
No sleep for the "Tater"

No sleep for the mother
trying to nurse
trying to sleep and
be prepared for the worst...

appendicitis, food poisoning
maybe just gas?
a 4am bath tells us
this illness might pass

Still, I'm dressed and I'm ready
should fever ensue
or pain start to worsen
or signs of the flu

start to take up the morning
with an ER trip, too -
So I write a poem now
isn't that what you'd do? 
                                                   (you know, just in case I'm gone all day)
Now I am off
to get a drink for my girl
My sweet little Ada
What a night!  What a whirl!

A Day Which Breaks Your Heart...

{day 23}

some have asked me
what is it like to be a mother?
How does one possibly describe this... 

What is it like
to have a head on your neck?
What I mean is,
it's as obvious and understated and as essential
as the head that comes up from my neck.  

or, to put it another way -

i remember
holding my baby boy
mesmerized by the bend of time
here he was,
brand new in my arms and yet -
it always was
always will be

and here,
here is the point of no return

so,
to love
to feel a bind so essential - 
then to have lost
they say it is better than not
and i agree

there are lost loves
which cannot be replaced
like a mother and her son
when it happens, 
it seems a violent tearing of that sacred cord
which binds humanity

this isn't meant to be depressing
remember, i held a bundled newborn
and could comprehend unthwartable eternity
in love,
in relationship

but today
I will mourn with that sweet boy
not in hopelessness
but in the ache of having to say goodbye
too soon.