Spam

Have you checked your spam folder recently?  I admit I am not the most diligent spam checker.  Usually I check it when my blog entry doesn't show in my inbox.   Odd that something so regular ends up in spam. Maybe I used a spam word, like all the entries from foreign countries asking for money.  Maybe Julian of Norwich is suspect... somehow.  I'm sure she is.  Any post declaring that All will be well, and all manner of things will be well is potentially... suspect.  Potentially spam-worthy.

I find the oddest things

In spam,

Things I choose to see

Every day

Still

These things

Randomly choose

To hide

Out of sight.

Today my blog went missing.

I wonder

What sends things packing

To Spam,

The camping breakfast meat

It used to taste oh so fine

Fried over a campfire

Spam

I understand for Koreans

It is a delicacy

Spam

Now it is a category

For things dumped

After thirty days

The oddest things

Even things I choose to see

Every day.

Camel rides

Yes. This is another morning dream.  I do sometimes wonder about the medications I take.  My beloved and I are home from church today.  He is grading.  I am... well... I am not driving... so I have to be home dreaming about renting camels.  Pretty funny.

This morning the church I attend

Rented a camel

For a week.

The church woman

In charge of camel oversight

Was an unlikely choice.

It was a delight however

To watch her

Introduce the camel

To the congregation.

The camel himself

Was a delight.

Somehow

Someone

Decided this would be good

For Glen Ellyn

A camel in the parking lot

An indulgent camel,

As far as camels go,

An indulgent camel moved

From the lower lot

To the upper lot

All week.

Camel rides.

Rarely the collar

I have a new colleague... Judy Jackson was ordained a deacon today.  She is a blessing to the Church Entire.  I rarely wear my clerical collar these days.  I had forgotten about shopping in a supermarket wearing a collar, or having lunch at Starbucks.  It seems this coming week will be a "collar week." Wedding rehearsal and wedding upcoming.  I may also need to make a pastoral visit or two.

Rarely the collar

Except on days like this one.

I had forgotten.

Things that needed saying

Our daughter is in Oklahoma this week, helping to lead a conference.  She will return and go back to being a camp counselor on Sunday.  More practice in leaving and returning and leaving again.  In September we will drive her to Colorado to begin her freshman year at University of Denver.  I am grateful all three of us visited there before she made her choice.

We knew

When the tour guide

Kindly yet firmly corrected

The young man

Who mispronounced her name;

We knew

When the honors student offered

This college was not her first choice,

But she still loved it here;

We knew

When the mountains rose

In the distance

These were all  things

That needed saying,

And our daughter

Would have another home

Here.

Edges of things

The lawn people were here yesterday.  They left our end of the street... clearly edged.  It is a sight to behold... this clear edging.  Of course it is temporary.  All such things are temporary.

I claim to work

On the edges of things

Still

My edges are nowhere near

As neat

As the edges the lawn people

Leave behind.

They show

A clear line

Between the sidewalk

And the lawn

A clear demarcation

Between concrete

And grass

At least until the grass begins

Its creep

Once again

As it always does.

Exactly right

19 years married to my beloved today.  A client rescheduled for next week.  Enough space was left between working out and working in.  Today there will be no rush.  Today the cat and my beloved are sound asleep in the chair across from me as I write this.  We remembered it was our anniversary on the way home from working out.  Perhaps we will have spaghetti with pesto tonight.  It all feels exactly right.

Enough was cleared

Enough was added

To make this day

Exactly right.

Convergence

Ah.  So many things to consider today.

31 years a deacon

Today.

The large item

On the agenda

Is replacing the dead allysum

In the front planters.

Of course this first means

The arrangement

Of a ride to the nursery.

I may also harvest

The rhubarb

And pull weeds.

The convergence of life,

The acknowledgment

Of limitation,

The possibility

Of rhubarb pie.

So many things

Oh so many things

To consider.

Intentional

She is home for 36 hours before she returns to camp.  We are reminded again of intentionality.  Now is the time for her Father's Day brunch.  The sense of not wasting such moments... hovers.  It claims the moment for intentional time with her father.

Now is the time 

For intentional meals

Intentional conversations

Intentional thoughts

To make intentional

Memories.

Maybe now

Has always been the time

For such things

Except now

Right now

We know intentionality

Bears all things

Hopes all things

Believes all things

Even invites

All things

Into the mix.

Oh my God

Children... they come and go, and come again.

Oh my God

When the last one leaves

Or prepares to leave,

Or even

Practices leaving,

The heart follows

Each step away,

Cherishes each step

Home.

As much as when

The first one left

The heart followed

Each step away.

We still cherish

Each step home.

Oh my God

Yesterday we drove

By the turn we used to take

When she needed that ride

To high school.

Oh my God

She will be home

For the weekend,

Then will practice leaving

Again.

Oh my God

When the last one leaves

When the first one leaves

The heart follows.

French words

I am a fan of word play.  I imagine I will end the day with a mass of French words that rhyme, some from me, some from my beloved.  I love texting for such things.

We consider

All the words the rhyme

With the French pronunciation

Of Dupage.

Or at least as many

As we can conjure up.

Words like mirage,

Decoupage.

Over coffee I remembered

Collage.

This is what texting

Is good for.

Sabotage

Just came to mind.

Decolletage

Right behind it.

This

Is what texting

Is good for.

The whimsy continues.

Maybe another poem

Follows.

Wednesday home

After the last seizure episode, my meds were increased.  Odd... but good... I think things are where they need to be.  It took a couple weeks, but now, Wednesday home, I have introduced my beloved to my therapist, and later this week we visit two of my doctors.  And of course, we have done more driving around and looking at things... something we do well together.  Last night and this morning the clouds particularly caught our attention.

We drove and talked

And looked at things,

The way we always do,

The way we always have.

Then I introduced you

To someone I have known

For eight years now

So you could know him

As part of my life,

And maybe more than the way

I have described.

It never occurred to me

To introduce him

Before.

Now I am Wednesday home.

I find one more medicine

Has been adjusted

To work as it should.

I did not know this should

Before.

I am Wednesday home.

I find new possibility.

Magenta petunia

I found myself thinking about my Dad as I planted the pots in front of the house with petunias.  He called all flowers petunias.  There is one, unforeseen, unplanned, magenta petunia in the right hand pot next to the front door.  I see it and think about Dad.

He called all flowers

Petunias

No matter what they were

Really.

This year is the first one

I planted petunias,

Really petunias,

In the front pots.

We bought all purple

Except one bloomed

Magenta.

It is fitting

They are not all

The same,

These petunias planted

The day after Father’s Day.

He called everything that bloomed

A petunia.

It was his way.

He would appreciate

That magenta petunia

In the midst

Of a sea

Of purple.

Today I do not have to be brought anywhere

Today the calendar shows no appointments.  One car is with my daughter at camp.  The other car is with my beloved at work.  Today is a day of planting purple in the front and yellow in the back, whichever spot is shady.  It is HOT today, so time in the sun is not in the cards.  Today is a day to be thankful for air conditioning and time with the cat.

Today

I do not have to be brought

Anywhere.

I have enough flowers

And laundry

To keep me occupied here.

The altar flowers

Have finally succumbed

On the front table.

Today I breathe

In place.

I roamed Target yesterday

With my beloved,

Dreamed school dreams

All night,

Awakened to the knowledge

I am done with tests

And final exams.

Today this

Is what I get. 

I do not have to be brought

Anywhere.

This means I am able

To be here.

Together

Early on in our relationship, my beloved and I discovered a common love of sharing small moments and celebrating them.  Today I realized, reading this snippet from The Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor, how much more a haiku can express this simple, profound, thing.  Thank you, Kobayashi Issa. Thank you, Garrison Keillor.  Thank you, my beloved.  Thank you, God.

From The Writer’s Almanac for June 15, 2014:

“It's the birthday of Japanese poet Kobayashi Issa, born in Kashiwabara, Japan (1763). He's one of the masters of the Japanese form of poetry called haiku, which uses 17 Japanese characters broken into three distinct units. He spent most of his adult life traveling around Japan, writing haiku, keeping a travel diary, and visiting shrines and temples across the country. By the end of his life, he had written more than 20,000 haiku celebrating the small wonders of everyday life.”

In part we are together,

To travel around

And look at things.

After the ice cream cones

I live with two wonderful people who now operate at a different speed than I do.  Or perhaps I should say: Now I operate at a different speed than they do.  It wasn't always this way.  Now it is.

After the ice cream cones

We bought two flats

Of flowers,

One for the back,

One for the front,

Then came mushroom compost

At the local hardware store.

We must find lawn furniture

She said.

So

We looked for lawn furniture

At Jewel.

When it wasn’t there

We shopped for food.

I used to be able

To do several errands

In a row.

Now I must do

One at a time.

Today I contemplate

Mushroom compost,

The planter preparation.

Today I even consider

The possibility

Of trimming the hedge.

Clean

I am home today, smelling the scent of clean.  Last fall we began hiring a person to come in every two weeks to clean.  She came two weeks ago, the day after my double seizure.  When my daughter picked me up from the hospital, she brought me home to clean.  Today I was home to witness the process, and experience the house being worked into cleanliness.  

The last time

I smelled the house

Like this

I walked through the front door

From the hospital.

This is my two week anniversary

Home again.

Lately

We have seen

Way too many doctors and nurses.

Still

I know so many others

Who see

So many more.

Still

The last time

I smelled the house

Like this

I arrived to it

Clean and shining

And now

Two weeks later

It has the scent of clean

Again

And I

I did not have to

Arrive from anywhere

To smell it.

Instead

While I waited for a client who never showed, I had a conversation with fresh grief.  This must be what I was meant to do.  And now I am already on page 10 of a book it would never have occurred to me to read, were it not for the morning ride with my daughter.  I wonder what the day will bring... instead.

She doesn’t show up

Instead

Instead

I find other reasons

I am here.

It seems Thursday

Is completely reordered:

A text message here,

A book recommendation there,

A conversation

With grief

One month lost

And counting.

The yellow lily just begins

Out my window

Against the gray sky.

She doesn’t show,

Doesn’t call,

Doesn’t email.

Instead 

There are other reasons

I am here today.

Some of them

I know.

Planned

I sit with client after client.  I sit with myself and pretend my plans, even this simple haiku, will come out even.  We all sit, peruse our plans, pay attention to an extra syllable here, a missing syllable there.

Yesterday nothing

Went exactly as planned.

Today not this haiku

Either.

This thing is mine

On Sunday at church I heard myself say:  We all get our own things.  Somehow seizures are mine to figure out.  Hmm.  

When they stand

In front of me at church

And say

This should never happen

To you

I hear myself answer

Ah

But this thing

Is mine

I am still learning

The ins and outs

The wrinkles

The edges

The ways I might happen

To become a better person

The sitting still

The wobbling

When I walk,

The focus

On the one particular thing,

Essential

To this one

Particular moment.

Humility of ear

I never know what will land in my inbox.

"The Christian church came into being at Pentecost. The gift of the Holy Spirit on that occasion is generally called the gift of tongues, but it might equally as well be called the gift of ears…. As writers, readers, human beings, we cannot speak to or understand each other unless we are first prepared to listen. Of all the gifts that the Holy Spirit is able to bestow, the one for which we should first and most earnestly pray is humility of ear."

                                          -W. H. Auden

                                          Source: Words and the Word

On this

The day after the feast

Of Pentecost

Auden lands

In my inbox,

Reminds me

There are so many gifts

Of the Spirit

And I

I sit in my blue chair

Organize the week  

In humility of ear,

Not knowing if anything

I say or pray

Will come out

In any particular way.

And I

I sit in my blue chair

And wait

For what comes next.

Birthday nap

Today is my beloved's birthday, nigh on our daughter's high school graduation, nigh on my unscheduled seizure activity.  This is the year we are officially past anything that resembles middle age.

He takes his birthday nap,

The cat ensconced.

This is the year

The concept of middle age

Flies out the window,

Creeps out the door.

This is the year we launch

Our daughter.

This is the year

We realize we don’t live to be

One hundred twenty.

This is the year

We realize

Just so much

Will fit

And no more

Except there is always room

For a birthday nap

And a cat.

I look at the days ahead

I learn a whole new set of things.  This does not mean forgetting to spread the love, even if only from the blue recliner.  There are different ways to practice presence.

I look at the days ahead

Name the things

That absolutely require

My presence,

Reschedule the rest,

Spread my love

Beyond and beyond

Save what I can.

Lose

What must be lost.

Remember to spread the love

Even if only

From the seat

Of my blue chair.

Altar flowers

I was named the recipient of the altar flowers this week.  They arrived at my door with a smile.  Of course.  And bear grass for the seizure cat, now sound asleep in the other room.  He has earned the sleep and has already begun to enjoy the bear grass when awake.  I am beginning to acclimate to the increased meds.

I received the altar flowers

On Tuesday

At home.

On Tuesday

I rearranged them

In the black olive vase.

The flowers even have

Bear grass

For the cat.

How thoughtful.

Today

One week out

I have begun

To see straight

Once again.

The flowers make an altar

Of the front table.

There are windows to the world

On either side,

The burning bushes green

Through the glass.