Something else

After my first double seizure I introduced my beloved to my therapist, thinking I had no idea what was next, and perhaps the two of them might need to interact if this seizure-thing moved on to something else. What was this something else, you might ask? I had no idea. I still have no idea. That's what makes it a something else.

When I sit with you

I figure I must make the most

Of the money I am paying.

This seems to mean

I must fill the air

With the most words possible,

To get the most

Out of our fifty-five minutes.

This morning I wonder

About my beloved.

He says he would like to sit

In a corner of your office

Perhaps even on the floor

Watch the light

Come through the windows

Drink in the possible

Fifty-five minute stop

To the usual

Before moving on

To the next thing.

Different ways

I have written about green before. I just listened to On Being, an interview with Jean Vanier. A friend from school, a missionary who served in Guatemala, is now considering Tanzania as her next mission field. My daughter has the whole world at her feet, in her hands. They all feel green with growth. I admit to feeling green... in other ways.

I find myself envious:

Green with the experiences

Green with the opportunities

My friends face:

Mission fields beyond my capacities

Except for the experience

Of prayer,

The opportunity

To stand on the sidelines,

Cheer the possibilities,

Witness the realities

Of wider life

Beyond my own.

After all,

Isn’t this

What it’s all about?

There are different ways

To be green.

I tell myself

I proclaim

There are different ways

To be green

The morning holds

Every other Friday a woman arrives to help us begin again with a clean(er) home. While I am not an early morning person, when I do get up early, I appreciate it... eventually.

The morning holds

So much

To awaken to:

The cat asleep on the bed upstairs;

The family on the road somewhere

Between here and Ohio;

The woman who helps us

Begin again

With clean floors,

Clean surfaces;

The false blue indigo,

Curling in the clear glass vase;

It seems wrong to name it

False.

This morning holds so much

To consider:

True

False

The hum of the air conditioner

So many people

To pray for,

People on so many roads:

May they all arrive at the next place

May they all find home

Oh yes

Me too.

Monarch

Yes, I worked out this morning. On my way out of the parking lot, I saw a monarch. Made my day. Both of us flew on.

The first monarch of the year.

I’m sure it was a monarch

Not a viceroy.

He or she sought

Possible milkweed

In the sculpted landscape

Of the fitness center.

He or she flew on.

So did I.

Morning thought

Listened to Fresh Air yesterday, with Terri interviewing a brain surgeon. I admit to ongoing interest in the brain. My fun fact for the day was that the brain requires a ton of blood to operate. Of course it does.

I wonder if

At night

The brain still requires

A quarter of the blood

The heart pumps;

Or if maybe

The rest of the body

Is able to store up

More blood at night.

I know

It probably doesn’t work that way

This is just me wondering

In the morning

With a brain

Pulling new blood

And a cup of hot coffee.

Memorial Day

We each have our own interpretation of days such as this. Each of us with our own memories, our own interpretations. No right. No wrong.

This is a day for

Remembering, oh so much,

Each one to her own.

Pentecost efficient

So many ways to define efficiency. We are still wearing our red. though now a nap break has overtaken us. Still...we feel efficient. Who else has run the same car (red!) through two different car washes before one in the afternoon. Yes... I know there are more expedient ways to do this. But still...look at all the time left in this day?

We managed to wear red today,

Make it to a middle service,

Have four good conversations,

Fill up the gas tank,

Get the car washed,

Order and eat breakfast,

Get the car washed again,

Then home before one.

We are feeling efficient:

Pentecost efficient.

Holy Spirit efficient.

Here we are at home,

Just after one.

We consider

What’s next.

Hear me out

Hmm. I had settled into a potential two seizures per year. Not bad, I thought. Not bad. Particularly with a one or two hour lead-in. I can list a wealth of potential triggers. Hear me out, says the neurologist, Hear me out.

Hear me out,

I say to the brain doctor.

Hear me out,

He replies.

We,

Both of us,

Listen.

The idea,

Apparently,

Is to have

No seizures at all.

The idea is to live in the world

As it is

Barometric pressure

And lighting

Notwithstanding.

Hear me out,

He says.

Hear me out,

I say.

I do.

He does.

I figure,

Like all doctors,

His goal is for me

To live forever,

Seizure-free,

Even perhaps,

Dancing in the rain.

God's ideas

Wow. What a morning. So much in bits and pieces. Then there are the lilies of the valley, the stray white violets, more columbine in front. All God's ideas. God spreads them out in places I least expect. I remember the free haircut lady from Wednesday.

The messages:

They come

In whole:

In bits and pieces.

The messages:

Some are cause for joy

Some require time

On the knees,

Then more time

On the knees

Before getting up,

Getting dressed,

Noting the lilies of the valley

Spread behind the peonies

Behind the garage;

Noting the wild strawberries,

The white violets

Interspersed,

All unplanted by me;

God’s idea it seems.

God has good ideas

Sometimes it’s important

To find them

Even when they hide

Behind the garage.

Free haircut redux

Sometimes, no often, the holy is found in such exchanges. This was the real thing.

This was the real thing.

No dream with lines of past clergy friends

Waiting for their free haircut.

No.

Only me

On a very real, chilly day

Taking my wallet out to pay

No.

Clergy are free,

She says.

That’s not necessary

I say.

No,

She says,

Clergy are free.

Thank you,

I say.

I tip her.

That’s not necessary,

She says.

Yes it is,

I say.

Thank you,

She says.

Don’t wait so long

To get your hair cut

Next time.

Familiar

Five minutes now, then out the door.

And so this morning

In exactly fifteen minutes

I will leave to drive

To my familiar Wednesday place

On familiar Wednesday roads.

The light is not too much

Nor is it

Too little.

I must pay attention

To such things

These days.

And so

In eleven minutes now

I will leave to drive

My familiar car

On familiar Wednesday roads.

This is what it is

I am grateful for this beginning return

In nine minutes now.

They return

I am a mother and a wife and a priest and a therapist, among many other things. I watch people come and go. I come and go. So much happens in the unseen places. Every now and then someone returns and I glimpse the work that's happened in between... unseen.

So much happens

Unseen

Then they return

Only

To leave again.

We wait

Some times feel more full than others. I am grateful for this fullness.

I awake with the utter reality

The certainty

The authenticity of those

With whom I spent the week:

Eating

Driving back and forth

Texting single words and phrases

Caring over miles and miles.

Here I am with the cat

In our calm,

Waiting for the plane to land,

The cab to be taken,

The feet to walk through

The front door

To me and the cat

The cardinal singing its heart out

In the back yard.

Here we are in our utter realness

Our certainty

Our authenticity

Waiting to greet you

In yours.

Follow the dreams

This morning I slept and woke and slept and woke. I remember a number of dreams: Little girls in colorful patchwork dresses sitting in my office at church. Past classmates who have come to me for therapy. And others. Today I follow the dreams. They are sufficient.

Today I follow the dreams.

They people my head

With those long gone

Or going

Or simply dancing

In my office.

I slept in

This morning,

And woke,

And slept,

And woke.

The cat stood next to the bed,

Blinked at me,

Then accompanied me downstairs.

Today is a day for dreams.

No more input

Is required.

I will work with what has come.

It is sufficient

And even more

Than sufficient.

Free haircuts

In the morning space, I dreamed of getting my hair cut at the salon across the street. I've been told clergy get free haircuts there. In my dream I went in and all my clergy colleagues were waiting for their haircuts


In the morning space

I dreamed the list

Of things to do,

Even added some.

The possible haircut became

A gathering of all the clergy

I have known

Waiting for their free haircuts

Across the way.

I wondered how this business

Made any money;

All the chairs were filled

With waiting clergy

Across the way.

Then I woke up

And began the list again.

Instead of going back to sleep

Amazing how much clearer the world appears when I do not turn over and go back to sleep. My usual Wednesday morning routine is different this week. I do not have my usual 9 AM appointment because I have no way to get there. My daughter is gone now. Instead of going back to sleep, it's me and the cat... in the sun.

Instead of going back to sleep,

I get up.

The morning is crisp.

I accompany the daughter

Before the cab arrives.

Instead of going back to sleep

I write this.

My head is clear.

The daughter is now gone.

The sun shines.

Instead of going back to sleep

I have three un-programmed hours

To accompany the cat.

He is grateful.

Three hours

To be whelmed in the sun.

Instead of going back to sleep

I am gracefully awake

Whelmed in the sun

Accompanying the cat

Just the two of us.

Not right

I think...some day I may handle all of this with more grace. Of course some days are better than others. 

On the other side of the world:

Another earthquake.

It seems

Not right:

Two earthquakes

Within three weeks of one another

Not right

As if even one

Is right.

Here

On this side of the world

My friend tells me

She has planted six birch trees

On her lawn

They remind her of the presence

Of God.

Here

On this side of the world

I cannot drive for now

So others drive for me.

These things are not right or wrong

They simply are:

Like earthquakes.

Like birch trees.

Oh thank God

I awakened this morning with a slightly clearer head. To help it along, it feels I was gifted with a cancellation of the first scheduled thing for today. Now the cat and I... we are in our respective cozy places. Oh thank God.

Oh thank God

You subtracted the first scheduled thing

From my day.

Now there is room

For another cup of coffee,

Space to consider

Unscheduled things

Time to calm

The squalling cat

Oh thank God

There is room to warm my hands

On my favorite mug

With the broken handle.

Oh thank God

It is Monday

And the first scheduled thing

Is now

At 6 PM.

Frozen blueberries

I woke up with more humor this morning. I am grateful.

The ten pounds

Of frozen blueberries

Arrived during Spanish class

Last week:

Berries azules.

I divided them

Into twenty manageable bags

Of two cups each.

This morning the Groupon offer arrives

For twenty units of Botox.

I know what to do

With the blueberries.

No words

I have not written in the last couple of days because no words have come. So I wait.

I would like to write

But it seems there are no words

For this. No words. None.

Tut tut

Ah yes... the barometer brain is back in operation. Spring

Tut tut it looks like rain

The barometer in my brain

Says it’s coming

The red wings out back

Sing its arrival

Any minute now

The crab apple is pinker

Than it’s ever been

It feels like rain

The barometer

In my brain says

Any second now

It will be wetter

Than it was.

North Dakota Day

My heritage.

My father was born

In North Dakota.

My beloved spent a year

In Fargo.

Being a definite outsider

He found it strange

Chickpeas were found

In the exotic food aisle.

No one liked when he made coffee

For his department.

He added way too many

Extra scoops

To fix the usual pale concoction.

Today

Returning to my roots

(It seems)

I made the coffee weak.

I don’t usually do this.

I declare today

North Dakota Day.

Closer to glory

You are closer to glory

leaping an abyss

than upholstering a rut.

From Easter Exultet in James Broughten, Little Sermons of the Big Joy (now, unfortunately, out of print, but widely quoted)

This is not mine

But I wish it were oh how

I wish it were.