Taking a sabbatical

I am taking a blog sabbatical for a time while I pay attention to other things in other ways.   Abundant blessings to all of you.  I shall return.

Glass bell

Sun and cold and snow this morning.  A powerful combination.  My brain dawned clear.  I think through things in the warm house.  I listen to the possibility of music.

The clear glass bell

Within a bell

Within yet another bell

On the Epiphany tree

Sparkles in the sun.

The nest of bells

Hangs silent

With potential;

A certain musical

Note

Within a note

Within yet one more

Musical note.

The daffodils blare silent

With possibility

From the table.

It is oh so cold outdoors.

I organize my life

Inside.

I listen to potential

Music.

Pretty good flosser

Home again with clean teeth.  As I sat in the chair, closed eyes, mouth open, I considered what possibilities the day contained.  I found out that I am a pretty good flosser, which, in the land of my birth, Minnesota, is as good as it gets.

In the dentist’s chair

All I have to do is

Close my eyes,

Open my mouth,

Hear how my flossing

Was

Pretty good

Over the last six months.

I consider

The world of teeth

For a brief time,

Return home with teeth

My tongue now finds

Smooth,

Plaque-less.

I return home

With the words

That I

Am a pretty good flosser.

Really I know

The tooth cleaner

Says that

To most everyone.

Cold coffee

 Haiku day again.  Thought I could drink yesterday's coffee to start the day.  Clearly the answer is No.

Cold cup of coffee

From yesterday’s pot simply

Doesn’t cut it.

Advent is over

We found our first daffodils at Trader Joe*s this afternoon.  Actually, my beloved found them, and pointed them out to me.  It is good to have a daffodil partner when one is in a low place and not seeing things very clearly.  I am grateful for my beloved who knows the importance of daffodils.

This afternoon I added daffodils

Next to the Nativity,

A reminder of spring

In the midst of snow.

The Christmas tree still has yet

To come down.

This morning*s church bulletin

Offered announcements

For the future

And one announcement declaring

Advent is over,

A way of asking folk

To return their Advent rings

For next year.

Advent is over.

Daffodils grace the area

Next to the Nativity.

When the flowers come full bloom

It will be time

To take down

The Christmas tree,

Store away the ornaments,

Carefully pack up the stone Nativity

Until next year.

Advent is over.

Christmas is over.

Epiphany is underway.

I wait for the light

To come.

Stages

Everything is done, one step at a time.  The anteater and me... we are ready to go home.

I complete the next stage

Of leaving:

Pack my suitcase,

Dirty clothes in half,

A range of things

In the other half

Including the anteater.

He often goes with me

On trips.

I almost brought him

To Iona last year.

Anteater packed,

The computer will be the last thing,

Once this is finished.

Now I sit in the hotel room

Writing

The next stage before I leave.

The suitcase waits

At the door,

The anteater safely inside.

We are ready

To go home.

Sunny and cold in Florida

One more day, then it's back to Illinois.  I figure they*re lowering the temperature in Florida so it won*t be too much of a shock when we return.

I sampled the day.

It is sunny and cold.

Coffee and an orange,

Breakfast in the room

This morning.

I pretend the sun signals warmth.

I know different.

I sampled the day.

This is Florida.

Still

This is also January.

I also know

It is still colder in Illinois.

Sunny and cold

For Florida.

The Florida folk bundle up in hats and gloves.

We practice picking them out

From their abundance

Of warm gear.

The rest of us pretend

We don*t need hats and gloves

At all.

Off kilter

I have learned some things this week I was beginning to suspect.  Somehow the learning makes it possible to consider solutions, including taking this something for a walk.  It is promised cold today... for Florida.  I figure it is getting me ready to return to Illinois on Saturday.

I suspected

There was something off kilter.

Now that I know what it is

Or at least

Part of what it is,

I can:

Fight it

Resolve it

Or perhaps

Share a cup of coffee

With it;

Maybe

Take a walk

With it,

Even in the Florida cold

And rain.

Even in the rain

Haiku time again.  And once again the commentary is longer than the haiku.  We are almost halfway through the Stephen Ministry Leader training, and I am once more in that odd position of being neither fish nor fowl, not fitting in the right categories.  Am I a priest or a mental health provider?  And what exactly is my role in this particular enterprise?  I've heard these questions before.  I live these questions. I came with one understanding.  Now I must catch the glimmers that are mine, even on a rainy day in Florida, trusting it is indeed a new day.  Even in the rain.

Even in the rain

Day fully dawns even when

I cannot see it

Looking for God in the cracks

Some days I gotta make my plan small.

Last night I slept

More than an hour

At a time.

Today the plan

Is to hold it together

Until bedtime.

I know:

Such a limited goal.

But still

At 7 AM

It seems a good beginning.

I augment my shirt

With a colorful scarf.

I have packed

For the day.

Soon I will eat oatmeal.

Though rain is predicted

I still hope for sun

During some of the breaks.

Such hopes

Such plans

I determine to look for God

In the cracks.

Eight floors up

Orlando is not Cambridge.  Eight floors up here with a view of another hotel is not like thirteen flights with an immediate elevator and a view of the Charles mid-morning.  Still... some say exercise can be a good thing. Some say.

Eight floors up

We thought to get a view

No

Not like Cambridge at all

No Charles River with rowers

The sun already half-skied

Rowers.

Eight floors up

We thought:

A view

No

We are directly across from a hotel

Just like ours

Eight floors up.

I met the cement stairwell

Last night

Eight flights of it

The lines to the elevator

So long

I climbed instead

Exercise is sometimes good.

Sometimes.

Eight flights up.

Auspicious

The day began a half hour later than I planned.  When we got on the airplane to Orlando, the first person we saw was a beautiful woman in First Class clipping coupons.  Really?  Somehow it was a sign.  It remains to be seen what it means.  Stay tuned.

Somehow auspicious

The woman in the first row

Of First Class seats,

Somehow auspicious,

The woman clipping coupons

From the Sunday paper

The First Class woman

The first thing we see

On entering the plane

Somehow auspicious.

I know it is a sign

Of something.

An auspicious sign

Of something.

I woke this morning

Today is laundry and preparation to leave tomorrow.  The tree was slated to come down today.  Most likely it will wait until next week or the week after.  Today is sufficient for today.  Today I sit and enjoy the squirrels and tree, remember there are others who leave the tree up all of the Epiphany season.  Arise, Shine, the Light has come.  Remember.  See the star on top of the tree? The one your son made in nursery school?  See the star?  The star is still there.

I woke this morning

Better able to see

The squirrels at work

In the melting snow,

And

The Christmas tree.

It may not come down

Until next weekend.

The house will not suffer

For it.

The cat will still ring the bells,

Hung on the bottom branches,

In his winter

Cat fits.

I will be able to return

To a house still celebrating

Our Savior’s birth

No matter that Epiphany

Will be well

Underway.

The woman who cleans the house

The day after we have cleaned

For her arrival,

She said yesterday

Sometimes she doesn’t dismantle

Her tree

Until February.

We are in good clean company.

The cat will have his bells.

I will remember Christmas again

When I return home.

Snow cling

Will it be warm enough, for long enough, to melt the snow and ice? Perhaps.

We are in the in-between

Snow

Ice

Snow

Melt

The snow still clings

To the burning bush.

It has not decided

To let go

Yet.

Snow says

I sit and contemplate the burning bush through the front window.  It is positioned between the Christmas tree, slated to be re-boxed on Saturday, and the nativity scene which will also be stored away.  But now... it's almost as if I had planned the way the snow is suspended on the burning bush.

The snow stays suspended

Between the branches

Of the burning bush.

It is warmer today.

Slightly warmer.

Still

The snow has parked itself

On the lowest branches

Because I can

Snow says

My turn

Snow says

To inhabit the bush.

Something has to keep it warm

Snow says

Warmth is found

In many forms.

With enough imagination

Sometimes even

In me.

Ours is a lit world

Warmer today, 4F.  It may rise to 12F.  The children are back in school.  My daughter's friend is still stuck in Aruba.  I fly out to a conference in Orlando on Sunday.  The sun is still a pale winter sun.  I give thanks for light... even pale winter light.  Sometimes, like today, I feel like I am writing a lived, daily, Farmer's Almanac.

The pale sun returns. 

Of course it remains

Winter sun,

Not good for sunning,

But perhaps good

For remembering ours

Is a lit world

Even in winter.

The ducks across the way

Eat their corn

With abandon.

This is what they do

To honor the lady

Still dressed

In red,

Now sometimes blue

As well.

This is what they do to live

In pale winter light

And snow,

Because ours

Is a lit world

Even in winter

Even  in cold.

Today I am grateful

For even

Pale sun.

The cat considers

Today is not as cold as predicted.  The temperature is only -5 F.  Positively balmy.  Still, the sun carries no heat for the cat.  He is still trying every possible heat vent, each of which is next to a window.  I also remember it is time for the windows to be replaced come spring.

The cat considers

The pale patch of sun

Lined across

The living room floor.

The beam

Is weak.

The snow and cold

Muffle any heat

The sun might carry.

The cat

Remembers sun

The way it should be.

He considers different heat vents

On the floor.

I sit in the sun

Pale and weak

Though it is.

I, too, remember sun

The way it used to be.

I, too, remember sun

The way it might be

Again.

Momentary

The phone call came in the middle of this poem.  School will be closed tomorrow as well.  Momentary will be a moment longer.  

They predict

These are momentary,

These below zero days.

Momentary:

The thought a child

Might freeze to death

On a bus stop,

Even bundled

Like the Pillsbury dough boy.

Stay in

Stay in

For God’s sake

Stay in

The sun and blue and ice

Are pretty enough

Indoors,

No need to venture

Anywhere.

Momentary:

There is plenty to eat

At home.

Stay in

Watch the way the bushes

Hold snow.

Now the phone call

Momentary will extend

To tomorrow.

I will go out

Today.

Illinois momentary

Does not count

For a Minnesota girl

Bundled like the Pillsbury dough boy

The way we always were.

One by one

We decided to stay home for the 12th day of Christmas... because we could.  There is something wondrous about staying home in the cold and the snow.  Especially now that I have no parish responsibilities, particularly responsibilities to make sure the church lot remains plowed.  I do not miss that one At All.  I do not know whether I will venture out tomorrow.  That remains to be seen.

One by one

We decided not

To go to church

Even though the temperatures

Were not quite as cold

As predicted.

One by one

Each of us is home.

We watch the temperatures drop

From inside.

I consider making soup

Perhaps Indian food

From a microwavable package.

I consider

Reading all the books

I have in the stack

Next to my chair.

But first I watch

The temperatures drop,

The still-decorated tree,

The full Nativity with the kings

Already in place.

I remember the hymns

I heard from my office

Last week,

Hymns rehearsed on the organ

For today.

I hum them to myself

As my beloved

Blows snow

Outside,

My daughter has retreated

to her hidey hole

Upstairs.

One by one we chose

To stay home.

Pre-Epiphany

I set up the whole Nativity scene in late Advent this year, including Baby Jesus and the wise men.  My daughter hid Jesus.  We only found him five days after Christmas Day, in the table drawer, where he has always been hidden.  The wise men (numbered four) in our nativity, didn't walk at all this year.  They stood in attendance, waiting for the birth.  They will leave, suddenly, on Tuesday,with the rest of the creche.  Everyone will return to their places.  Even us.

Christmas

Day eleven

The four wise folk

Wait in bunched attendance

On one side

Of the Nativity scene.

I know.

They traditionally don’t arrive

Until Monday.

We used to have them

Walk across the living room

Until January 6

Epiphany

That day we put everyone away

In a special box

Until next year.

The wise folk

Got a raw deal:

Dropped to their knees,

Handed over the gifts,

Rapidly left

By another way.

They walked

Stunned

All the way

Home.

More tracks

The snow beckons outside.  Paths have been shoveled, roads have been plowed.  There are still vast backyard stretches, even fields, which call for snow angels.

I remember years ago

Fresh fallen snow

In the moonlight

A smudge of tracks

Tiny paw prints,

Thin line connector,

One mouse

Braved the journey.

Today

In the sun

In places no mouse

Even squirrel

Has dared to run,

Vast blank fields

Of snow

Call like Circe

For snow angels.

Snow #108

All snow is, of course, not alike.  This is snow hitherto unknown.  I name it 108... just because.  I am at work figuring my 11:15 client will not show.  Somehow what matters is that I am here, in my office, prepared for normal things, even if normal things do not come to pass.  I forgot my 2013 calendar at home, though my January 2014 schedule is in it.  I have my 2014 calendar in hand.  It is filled with blank pages, white as driven snow, though I do not know exactly what driven snow looks like.  Perhaps it is snow #109.

Everyone agrees

This is not

Wet

Heart attack snow,

But fluff and drift

Almost soap flake snow.

Snow numbered

108

Of the 107 kinds of snow.

It was never recorded

Before.

This snow deserves its own

Particular name.

The sun showed briefly

Through the clouds

At North Avenue

And Glen Ellyn Road.

Snow 108 drifted across

The pale disk

Named itself

New

Completely new.

Still it falls.

Number change

Grateful for a new day, a new week, a new month, a new year.  Sitting here in the warm watching it snow.

Today marks the new year

Even as every day begins

A new year,

Except this time

The number changes.

The world is covered

In snow.

It hangs heavy

On the trees.

We,

Barely risen

To greet

This new world,

Sit warm inside

Watch the numbers

Change.