*****
Mother's Day weekend
13 May, 2012
Friday, 11 May, went to Lenawee County to spend some girl time with a friend. We had ice cream and a good visit. We walked to the bus stop when her little boy got home from school. One of the things I thought about as we passed St. Mary's on the Lake was the Arthurian story involving the Lady of the Lake. I remember a TV movie of an Avalon story that alluded to Marian stories being Christian covers of Goddess stories. Seems entirely plausible.
With all the woman hating and oppression that seems to be so prevalent, women need to assert themselves and make their presence felt. We are a force to be reckoned, not trifled, with. For an allegedly evolved species, humans have a lot to learn about how to treat one another. Just a hint: love and respect.
On the way home, the aroma of fresh sweetcorn filled the air, evoking olfactory memories. I also passed a field sparsely covered with a short red grass or the stubble thereof. After so long away from my native state, I don't recognize the agriculture. In fact, I question whether or not I even belong here. Michigan, maybe: Washtenaw County, not so much.
Saturday, 12 May, going to the 4-7 shift, noticed a large patch of lily-of-the-valley. Picked one fragrant little stalk and took it to the old lady I was sitting with. Making two people that happy over something so simple was wonderful. I encourage you to try it sometime.
Sunday, 13 May, Bishop Wendell Gibbs Jr. was at St. Luke's for Baptism, Confirmation, Reception and Reaffirmation. When he laid hands on my head as I was reaffirmed, I felt such holiness. Then I went down to Lenawee County to see Mom for Mother's Day. Let me tell you, I hit the mother lode in the joy department. Got to see two of my sisters, talked to brother Mark and to my son. The funny part about the latter-most was, I answered when David called and he said, "Happy Mother's Day, Grandma." I told him it was his mother to whom he was speaking. Waited, hoping my niece would make it before I left, but she didn't. Still, it was a good day; watching Mom enjoy the orioles at the bird feeder and the way she smiled when Kelly brought her a begonia. Truly, my cup runneth over!
***
POSTSCRIPT: His Grace, The Right Reverend Wendell Gibbs Jr. was at St. Luke parish on Ascension Thursday, 9 May, 2013 for an area-wide Confirmation, Reception, Reaffirmation ceremony, involving five or six parishes from the Diocese. One older lady, from another parish was confirmed, and I stood with a friend as he was confirmed. It was a lovely evening and it warmed my heart to be a participating witness.
(Songs of the homeland)
17 May, 2012
"How shall we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither! "Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy!" (Psalm 137: 4-6 Revised Standard Version)
In the middle of summer, we often think of reunions, visiting family or former classmates. Not everyone is so fortunate. People are away from home for all sorts of reasons. Soldiers are on tours of duty that take them away from loved ones and homeland. They may also find themselves in mortal danger.
Sometimes one experiences separation as the result of an unfortunate choice. This is the case with prisoners or persons in rehab. Not every absence from home is dire. Students may visit a foreign country, gaining a wealth of experience and information. Yet in the midst of adventure, one is often homesick. A person of my acquaintance is trying to get her paperwork straightened out so she can get on with her life. Bureaucratic red tape is a hassle, at the very least. She misses her kitties and her adult child. Happily she has found a situation cat-sitting which seems tailor-made, and is getting settled.
While longing fills the heart, fond memories ease the loneliness. Maybe there is no going back physically, but there is a place in your soul where joys remain untarnished. "When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. The stranger who sojourns with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God." (Leviticus 19: 33-34 RSV)
As you read this, I find myself sojourning in a place that is familiar, but hasn't been home for nearly two decades. It is the state of my birth, a place where I spent the first four decades of life. While in Texas, there has developed a fondness for people who would have remained unmet had circumstances not brought me here. Where to stay? Where to go? A quandary.
It is good to be here, renewing old acquaintances and meeting other persons in the flesh who have become known via the Internet. The future is uncertain to greater or lesser degrees, depending a lot on one's health and financial well-being. Should you find yourself in dark and dire circumstances, sing a song of your homeland. Your country of origin certainly, but your eternal homeland too.
Music is the language of love. As such, it comforts us and alleviates our fears. Give voice to the song in your heart. Remember, even if you are not in your homeland, you carry it with you.
*************
I have, since writing this article, returned to my native Michigan. The journey has been bitter-sweet and I feel torn. It will take time, but faith will sustain me.
Grace and Peace
***
(I no longer serve in Eucharistic ministry.)
The circuit-riding preacher brought religion to the people
Sometimes the "church" didn't have a roof, much less a shiny steeple
Folks gathered underneath a tree or just out in a field
At a campfire, hungry souls were fed and wounded souls were healed
The legacy has been passed down to those who fill the role
A chaplain takes a Bible, entering a prison or a foxhole
Sacred space is a frame of mind, it can happen anywhere
As two or three are gathered or in solitary prayer
The circuit that I ride is here within the town
I take the sacred elements and visit all around
I see people on their porches or lying in a bunk
One time the car was full, so I had a Body in the trunk
But most times the box is right beside me, handle gleaming in the sun
And I go into the 'hood, with Jesus riding shotgun.
National *holi-daze*
26 May, 2012
Talking with a friend, who is an American veteran, I opined several national holidays seemed to have lost a great deal of their significance when changed from their original dates to a Monday, merely for the sake of a three-day weekend. He said that had been done largely at the instigation of the travel and tourism industry. It just seems a damned shame.
This was first published before I left Texas, it has been updated, as seemed prudent. jbd
*****
Leaving for work this May morning, I noticed it was beginning to rain. Having lived several years in a drought-ridden part of Texas, I am reluctant to dictate the Almighty's business, figuring an omnipotent deity does not need my meager input. Besides, I enjoy the smell of rain-dampened earth. It was also raining when I left work, coming down a little harder.
Several may be disgruntled by rain disrupting holiday barbecue plans. I must tell you, I was pleased to note some were not deterred from carrying out a genuine observance of the holiday, a truly holy day of remembrance. Passing a small rural cemetery, four or five people wearing rain gear, were seen putting flags and flowers on graves.
It has been so long since Memorial Day was observed on its original day, I was no longer certain if it is 30 or 31 May, so I used a well-known search engine to determine it was the Thirtieth.
It seems people actually grumble now when national holidays come midweek, because they are "deprived" of a three day weekend. Certainly other countries have national days of observance, and I pray they will not adopt the sorry custom of the United States, moving them to the Monday before, turning a day of solemn remembrance into an excuse for a shoe sale, a "beer and BBQ blowout" or other meaningless frivolity.
Perhaps some, like myself, remember when Memorial Day was called Decoration Day. Kids were off from school, parents were off from work, and families went to place flowers on the graves of loved ones, whether they'd been in service or not.
My childhood memories of Decoration Day center around Fairfield Cemetery, near Jasper, Michigan. These hallowed grounds are the eternal resting place for the mortal remains of dearly departed on both sides of my family. We would take lilies-of-the-valley and/or irises, as I recall, and place them on the graves. Then we'd kneel at the foot of the grave and say a prayer, finishing with, "Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them." My brother and I would usually take a drink from the pump, cupping the water in our hands. It tasted sweet and earthy.
Simple memories which evoke simple pleasures. Monday, after work, I shall go and visit the living and perhaps even the dead. I shall distribute hugs, kisses and kindly thoughts accordingly. May you be blessed, in your observances and your memories. If you know someone who is unable to stop at the grave of a loved one, maybe you can go by, say a prayer, lay a flower: it costs so little and means so much. We are, after all, part of the same family.
(reflections)
29 May, 2012
It's amazing how much happier one's existence becomes when seeking the joy in life. That thought rode with me all the way back from Lenawee County to Washtenaw. Then I read a friend's blog and learned that she also had been learning to take time to enjoy time with others. When we realize how precious and fragile time is and come to terms with our limitations and morality, I think we are inclined to make the most of what we have and live life to the very fullest.
I enjoyed my day with Dawn and Wolfie. We had a great lunch, then went to a nearby cemetery. The scent of irises was so strong, it felt like we were surrounded. It wasn't cloying in the least, but comforting for being so substantial. We walked around a bit, noticed the graves marked with flags. Saw some graves so old the engraving was no longer legible. Then, we stopped for an ice cream treat, which we took back to the house to enjoy in air conditioned comfort. Dawn made me a care package and I left to visit my parents.
Mom was feeling a little hungry, but it would be at least another hour-and-a-half before my sister would be over to prepare their supper. So I opened my "goodie bag" and shared with them. Leftovers can provide a feast not only for the tummy, but for the soul. This wasn't "Chicken Soup for the Soul." I'm talking barbecue!
On that note, I'll share some of my prose.
Besides DQ:
I have nothing against the fine people who make Snickers Blizzards and Hung'r-buster burgers.
But what I really like about Texas is that you've got a drive-thru' beer barn attached to a place where you can get tattoos and body piercings.
So, like you and maybe a friend grab a six pack and drive around a while. A couple hours later you come back, but you don't drive through the beer barn. You go into the tattoo parlor and come out "branded," or with a chunk of metal in a previously non-perforated part of your anatomy.
Don't get me wrong; I'm a fan of body art and body jewelry. In fact, I have a couple tats and I wear 18 hoops: Six in one ear and a dozen in the other - Symmetry is highly overrated.
I know this doesn't always rhyme, but these are the ramblings of my mind...
So a friend and I went for a drive the other day. Coming home, we stopped to gas up the car. Something made me think of those "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books.
You know, somebody has made an awful lot of money off those.
Anyway, I got to thinking: even though chicken soup is supposed to be good for you - nourishing and comforting and all that, sometimes you just don't want chicken soup.
I'm kind of the layman's philosopher-slash-theologian and I tend to think outside the box.
WAY outside.
And what I'm thinking is that sometimes your soul needs a cheeseburger and a beer ... and maybe a side of curly fries.
This isn't about how many books I might sell. I just want to know I've done what I could to give somebody something that will carry them a little bit farther down the road.
So even though I don't like smoking, if your soul needs a cigarette, I'll try to find a match.
Because what nourishes my soul, is trying to help you find what your soul needs.
L'Chaim!
No comments:
Post a Comment