Friday, April 25, 2008

Inspired by the Weekend Wordsmith

Dense Element
25 April 2008, 10:04 PM

Resentment is a dense element--
I cannot bear it, and relinquish the burden
to the shoulders of my little ones, failing
to comprehend its weight until the damage is done,
the blessing given. My hand flies unaware,
hesitates apart from reason, fumbles with dignity,
integrity, all things holding value in any context,
not least of all in this holy space, a gift given
for the nurture which will enable them
to choose to live and love, forgive without
the onus of my sin upon their backs.

Bridegroom Matins

I've been struggling through Lent and Holy Week this year, not entirely present. I'm not sure to what I can attribute my restlessness, but it ended a couple of nights ago at Bridegroom Matins, when I suddenly remembered, amidst readings about Judas, Mary Magdalene, Jonah, the three youths in the fiery furnace, and the parable of the ten virgins etc, what Holy Week, at least, is about. Which of the virgins am I like- have I come to this Paschal season ready to receive it? I realized suddenly that the Lord has found me unprepared this year, so distracted with the struggles and the joys this year has brought. I feel as if I've come to him at the 11th hour this Lenten season.

Yet I remember also that we recently heard a reading that included the parable of the workers who were hired in the morning, the ones hired in the afternoon, and the ones hired in the evening, and how they were all received, and how they all were paid by the Master at the end of the day. Perhaps I take it a bit out of context, but I will trust that I'm not too late to receive the joy of Pascha this year.

The Bridegroom comes.

Bridegroom Matins
April 26, 2005


Early evening sunlight
danced on incense,
floated weightless
on the scent which fills all senses...

Long awaited joy
drifted into the Nave,
soundlessly permeating
the longing of the vigil keepers...

The Holy Spirit
filtered through the window,
inhabiting the prayers of the Betrothed,
eagerly awaiting fulfillment of hope;

the coming of the Bridegroom.


Early evening sunlight
filtered through the window;
played on incense,
densely floating, obscuring
wood and wax and oil
until all I saw was Heaven.

I imagined your hand,
reaching in to touch our hearts,
rewarding our
mustard-seed faithfulness,
loving those who know not
how You love,
nor how to love,
nor how one ever receives such love.

You graced our feeble prayers
with Your presence;
You always do.

Yet tonight,
I saw You steal into the Nave
on silken rays,
as the sun was westering,
gilding all around us
with golden radiance,
foreshadowing a sunless day,
a bright yet moonless night
of midnight cerulean skies
and stars which shine
for beauty’s sake,
rather than for light.


we were virgins,
trimming our lamps,
preparing for
the Bridegroom.

we felt
the joy of things to come;
our Lord
walked among us
in the Nave.

We heard
faint whisperings,
teasing our souls’ longings
for songs
we have yet to sing..

Can you hear it?

"Christ is risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death,
and upon those in the tombs bestowing life.."

Our Lord, he is coming..
Our Love, he is making ready
the banquet of our wedding day.
Our Lord, He will come for us
as He promised..

May these lamps
not be found

Friday, April 18, 2008

The Joys of Springtime

My husband and son walked out the door without me to go to the bus stop this morning. I was pouring a cup of coffee. As I caught up with my husband, he started saying, "OH! Look out!" and "You squished another one!" I looked down to see the sidewalk riddled with earthworms desperately dragging themselves across the dry concrete in search of a patch of moisture or dirt.

My husband called the Boy over, who was standing a few feet away with some older boys. The Boy, in turn, yelled to his friends, "HEY LOOK! WORMS!" I had expected all the other boys to kind of shrug and continue their conversation- they're all usually too old and too cool to pay the Boy much attention. To my surprise they all yelled, "WORMS??", ran over to where he was, and started picking/squishing up worms. Each one of them had a fistful when the bus came around the corner. As they walked to the bus, each boy dropped his worms, except for one. He unzipped the outer pocket of his backpack and surreptitiously slid the worms in, zipped it up- all the while making sure his mother wasn't watching from her car- and headed to the bus.


And giggle. His mom is pretty strict with him, at least at the bus stop. It's kind of refreshing to see him do something boys do, without being told to stop, stay clean and get off the grass. My husband and I were laughing about it, and as we passed another parent sitting in her car at the curb, she put her window down and, also laughing, asked if we'd seen the little boy put the worms in his backpack. We sure did. And I'm fairly certain his mother would've had a conniption RIGHT THERE if she'd seen it.

Ah, the joys of springtime.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Serving the Judge

16 April 2008, 8:30 AM

Important men sit
in the corner discussing important
things theological, while I fill
coffee, bring hot water for tea,
provide for their general comfort.

One, a gentleman, the other, an egoist,
a half self-, half state-appointed god,
passing judgment without knowledge.

He asks for half & half, and stirs his coffee
carelessly, discussing the need for Christian
leadership in high places, unaware
I serve him now because he failed to serve me.
His Christian leadership has cost me much
in time and trouble, because in his very holy,
right-wing, obdurate way, he has misjudged

my circumstance. He has no way of knowing
the woman serving him, topping off his coffee,
sweeping the pocket change off the table
into her apron, has been at his mercy
more than once, and found his mercy wanting.

Saturday, April 12, 2008


originally uploaded by DrBacchus.
My husband is currently in Amsterdam, where he has been attending a conference for what seems like the last month. Srsly, it's been about six days. But it feels like forever. He'll be back Monday, and I am so ready for him to be here. I've been ready for him to come home since 2 PM last Sunday when I drove away from the airport.

He asked me yesterday if I wanted to know what he'd gotten me in Amsterdam. I resisted the temptation and said no. Before the conversation was over, he'd said, "ok, I can't keep a secret..." and sent me the link to this image. I love earrings- the bigger the better (within reason), and I dig that these are made entirely of wood. My husband has fabulous taste.

You Are a Semi-Colon

You are elegant, understated, and subtle in your communication.

You're very smart (and you know it), but you don't often showcase your brilliance.

Instead, you carefully construct your arguments, ideas, and theories รข€“ until they are bulletproof.

You see your words as an expression of yourself, and you are careful not to waste them.

You friends see you as enlightened, logical, and shrewd.

(But what you're saying often goes right over their heads.)

You excel in: The Arts

You get along best with: The Colon

Thursday, April 10, 2008


So Beloved is in Amsterdam, and reports to me that he woke this morning rested and refreshed after sleeping through the night for the first time since his arrival. I, on the other hand, am having problems sleeping at all. So he's going to return from Amsterdam rested and jet-lagged (an interesting combo which amounts to having his schedule all screwed up for a while), and I'm going to be exhausted, and I will probably sleep solid through the night next Monday for the first time since he's been gone. There's a poem in there somewhere.


Friday, April 04, 2008

Painting with My Parents

My parents came to visit last weekend, and we took them to a pottery painting place in town. We'd started painting tiles a few months ago with the kids which we are using to tile our kitchen, and we thought it would be fun to have visitors participate. I had no idea what artists my parents are. Below are the tiles we all painted while they were here. Sorry for the glare. I tried to photograph them without a flash, but the colors just weren't right.

Left to right-
Top row: Mom's, mine, Epona's
Bottom row: Dad's, Beloved's, The Boy's

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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