Today I want to tell you about my sorrow
But words catch like thorns in my throat.
Today we mourn the loss of someone we love deeply. Today there are no words. Only tears. And so for all who have lost someone they love deeply..heart of their own heart, flesh of their own flesh, I offer you my silent company. I mourn with you. I weep with you. And I hope with you. The hope of one who has been broken-hearted and again seen the dawn.
The evening song rises,
wavering upward with the incense.
Voices sound out like trumpets,
break open in beauty like daffodils,
proclaiming before the great suffering begins:
“It is for love! It is for love!
This great folly is for love!”
And then, the garden,
agony
alone.
Jesus, your prayer rises like a whisp of smoke,
like a candle extinguished…
leaving only a sad grey trail
curling heavenward in the darkness.
The tabernacle sits empty,
like a heart broken open
and found abandoned.
Love—
life—
lost.
We stay,
mourning you with our songs,
eyes open and aching,
empty of tears,
waiting.
For you I would enter the dark waters
Extinguish myself
For you
Give all
So said the Voice to the tiny speck
Floating the the vastness of the universe
And the little speck
Overcome with sheer joy
Burst into flame
And lit up the entire universe
With a flash of love
Uncontainable
Entering by this exchange of love
The realm of eternity
When I wake up
The lights are still twinkling
On the ski hill
And it’s just light enough
To see the snow-dusted mountains
Against the pale blue sky.
The kids are up already
Regardless of the time change,
Reading Barefoot Books
To their baby brother on the couch.
“Ooooh, aaaah, gawaaa!” He solemnly proclaims.
“He’s so talky!” says his big sister.
We all know he comes by it honestly.
It’s gonna be another big day of stories and chatter….
I boil water for coffee while the baby sings.
God’s heart broke open
when we chose to leave it,
bursting through walls of warmth
meant to nurture,
but misperceived as barriers to freedom.
Out here in the windswept world
where many wander alone,
each their own god
confusedly crashing into each other,
our hearts are often wounded
—and burst open—
red mouths gaping with sorrow.
Who can understand our pain?
Who can heal our shattered souls?
Is there one who has suffered like us,
and survived? Yet more…has triumphed?
Go to Him.
His heart is open still
yearning with the vulnerable expectation of love…
Will you have the humble courage
to enter?
So I’ve been pondering the virtue of order again, as I always seem to be, because I’m not what the homemaking guru the Flylady calls a B.O. (born organized). So this Lent, more than focusing on giving up something, I’ve been focussing on aquiring something, namely the virtue of order. I’m hoping to bring more rhythm and smoothness to my week, so that certain things can happen more naturally, because that’s now simply when we do them, rather than waiting for them to happen in a fragmented and haphazard way…
So this scatterbrained poet is cleaning bathrooms on certain days, and doing laundry on certain days, and things like this. But how did this come about? Moving and Lent. Moving was a great way to have a fresh start…to hit the reset button and begin again. And this happened to coincide with a great spiritual impetus for interior growth and change for the better, which is the season of preparation for the joy of Easter.
These things complement each other well, because as when more things are planned (like meals, daily topics for homeschool, some daily and weekly chores) my mind is freed up to be more contemplative. I can read or pray without being quite as distracted by my revolving to-do list spinning about my head. I find those tiny household decisions take up a lot of brain power, and prevent me from being as peaceful as I’d like. (Who feels peaceful at 4:45 pm if you don’t know what’s for dinner and the kids are gnawing on your ankles?) So in this sense, knowing when I’m going to do certain things, rather than restricting me, has actually made me more free.
One of the things I’ve been trying to do this Lent is do the dishes right after each meal, instead of getting distracted by the kids, phone, next project (squirrel!) and letting them pile up. I’m actually generally doing better with them than I did when I had a dishwasher! And often it’s over the kitchen sink that I think of new blog posts…my little reward!
Both the routine and a spiritual motive make it easier to do my work promptly. Somehow it’s easier to make myself do certain things when they are simply part of the routine, instead of something I might do now…or maybe later…when I feel like it (because honestly, when will I feel like cleaning a toilet?).
The kids agree that stuff you do always is easier than stuff you do sometimes. My 9 year old told me, “It’s like making my bed…when I do it every day, it’s easy, but when I used to just do it sometimes, it was really hard each time.” So each week I am trying to add just a few more little things that we do on scheduled days. I don’t have really specific times for each thing, because too many details would set me up for failure…and be too much pressure. But little by little, I’m hoping to make this ship run more smoothly, with the idea that more pirate adventures can be had with mended sails and a swabbed deck!
Ah, to be a baby…living the dream… Isn’t this what we all want to do on a Friday morning as we clutch our coffee mugs? 😉
Well, anyway, back to homeschooling while my daughter holds her sleepy little brother…Hope you all make it through the day and have a great weekend!
What strikes me when I listen to Pope Francis’ encyclical “Laudato Si” (find it recorded here) is an attitude of reverence…both for nature as created by God, and for every human person as part of that same creation. The poor, the humble, the sorrowful sinner, the bird with the broken wing, the glorious sunset…are all beautiful manifestations of God’s infinite creativity. As such, all can be approached with a gentle reverence that inspires respect and care, rather than judgment and selfish dominion.
So what resonates deeply with me, is the Pope’s assertion that the way we treat nature is a sign of, and even affects, how we treat people. If we take all created things for granted, as items to be used for our own pleasure and financial benefit, it leads us to also objectify our fellow human beings…to use and abuse them as well. We become disconnected from creation, and unable to relate to those who suffer because of our selfish actions; our vision becomes microscopic, and we only see things as they affect us.
We forget that everything we receive is gift…air to breathe, the sunrise, fresh food to eat, laughter, joy. When we see such things as rights instead of blessings, we fail to appreciate them. We get caught up in trying to cram our souls full of new gadgets, acquisitions to fill the emptiness that should be filled with gratitude for all we already have.
But what if we tried to live with more simplicity? What if we tried to make our money stretch a little further, so we could have more to share with those who really need it, for whom every dollar counts? We had a Lenten meal at our parish in Sunday, and ate a simple meal of soup and homemade pretzels. All the donations for the meal were given to help build a school for poor children in South America. We watched a little video of these beautiful kids with great big brown eyes, smiling and full of hope as they shared their ambitions. “Yo quiero soy un professor,” (I want to be a teacher) said one little girl. (Forgive me if I spell the Spanish wrong!)
That soup tasted like a million bucks. I wish I had a million to send to those kids. They are the little ones whose world we must take care of. The ones for whom we need to lift our eyes behind the screen of our iPhones to look into the future. Let’s tread gently, and live generously, so that as many of them as possible can grow up to fulfill those dreams, and in turn also make the world a better place.
Just East Of Crazy Land 