I'm so sorry

Amazing. It was really seventeen years ago that that happened. It was not the first or the last time. I was one of the first women ordained in the Episcopal Church. I do remember the particulars of her husband's death. It was particularly awful, for her, for the church. It was not the first such occasion for me. It was the first apology I have received. For that I am grateful.

We have moved

Into the world

Of funerals.

Two today.

I’m so sorry

For your loss.

We said.

Somehow

The wedding helped

On Saturday.

A woman sat across a table

From me.

Seventeen years ago

She told me

I could not preside

At her husband’s funeral.

He did not believe

Women could be ordained.

I’m so sorry

She said.

I’m so sorry

For doing that.I’m so sorry.

Mauve toilet

Challenges appear in every pastoral visit.

Pastoral visits

Bring challenges,

Many challenges.

Years ago

A colleague

Made such a visit,

Had to use the bathroom

In the middle.

Usually we make sure

To find bathrooms

Before visits.

She politely asked

To excuse herself,

Found the bathroom upstairs

Relieved herself

Fully

Only to find

The toilet

Was not connected,

The mauve toilet

Was not connected.

It did not flush.

Me and Desmond

Campus ministry memories. There are many.

Years ago

Many many years ago

I served on a committee,

A steering committee

For college students

To gather in Colorado.

The snow was thick.

The bus broke down

In Nebraska.

We stayed in a motel

With red flocked wallpaper.

Upon arrival

We met with our speakers.

One speaker

Was Desmond Tutu.

He shivered his way

Through the conference.

We stuffed him

In an overly large

Down coat.

I will remember that picture

Forever.

Me and Desmond

In the snow.

Independence

When do possibilities turn into suggestions turn into advice? This does not mean I don't wish people to care about me, just that I would like people to ask what I need. I do not plan to apply for disability. I do not plan to get a three wheeled bike.

How much advice

Can one person take?

This week I have heard

At least two ways

For me

To be independent

Without asking

What independence means

To me.

I am not happy

No

Not happy

Is not the term

Rather

Crabby

Weepy

Belligerent

How about asking

What independence means

To me

Before naming

The solution?

How about it, guys?

How about it, gals?

How about it?

Remembrance

Remembering different things, or not remembering at all.

She says

She does not remember

Anything

From childhood.

I am sad

Because we shared a room

For years

With cupboards

Between our beds.

I remember a lot

But what

Does it mean

When only one person

Remembers

A shared experience?

Did it happen

By half?

Did it happen

At all?

Who is right?

Who is wrong?

Who is gracious?

Who is not?

What was shared

When nothing

Is remembered jointly

By both?

Wheeling

I am hopeful. I will work my way around the block in an hour. The sand hills may keep me company.

The sand hills wheel

Overhead.

We know north

Is the final destination

This time around.

We leave the front door

Open

To hear the seasons turn.

It’s warm

Unseasonably.

My feet woke up hopeful

This morning

Cranes and feet

What a combination!

I will head out north

Around the block

Me and the cranes

Wheeling

Hopeful with spring

Possibilities.

Oh oh oh

Beginning the process of figuring out where to move. Retirement communities? A ranch home?

Oh oh oh

She says

There is so much to do here

We have twelve libraries

And art teachers

She points to the blind woman

Playing piano

In the lobby

See

So much to do

But before we let you in

We need a note

From your doctor.

Oh oh oh.

I’m not sure

We fit

The parameters.

Oh oh oh

Bible studies

Upon Bible studies

Don’t you know?

So much to do.

More lady in red

Continuing to watch the lady in red or blue or green...oh, and the ducks, of course.

The lady in red

Now wears green.

We still watch her

Out the back

Call her

The lady in red

No matter what

She wears.

The ducks recognize her

No matter what

She wears:

Green

Red

Blue.

It matters

No never mind.

The ducks know her

For her endless supply

Of corn

Even when

It hasn’t snowed.

Dream home

Every year I enter once for the dream home. I have no idea what I would do with it once I got it. Still...I wonder. 

Today is the last day

To enter the contest

Whose dream house

Is it?

I have plenty

Of dreams

But usually someone else

Does not determine

Such things

The name will be drawn

Out of a hat

Picked by a computer

It will have nothing really

To do with real dreams

Just the luck

Of the draw

Then that someone

Will have to figure out

What to do with it

And what to do

With the non-dream home

Left behind.

Sharing

I don't always catch them sharing.

I see cats

Out of the corners

Of my eyes

One has grabbed

The left one

The other the right

They share like that

Even without knowing

Spam

Pollution...it's everywhere...even in the Mariana Trench

There’s a can of Spam

In the Mariana Trench.

Who decided

It needed

To be there?

Whoever decided Spam

Needs to be anywhere?

The epitome

Of pollution
Spam.

Groundhogs

I know...what am I doing writing about groundhogs ten days after the official groundhog day. I don't know...The sun and blue and no snow got me thinking...

Sun and blue

No snow

I keep thinking

It will come so soon

But no

It seems

No.

The groundhog

Saw her shadow

Went back to sleep

Awhile.

Winter she said

Now leave me alone.

Winter

He said

Now leave me alone.

Phyllis

Phil

Leave us

Alone

Transparency

One person's transparency is not the same as another's, I've noticed.

When is transparency

An insult

A compliment

Or maybe

In between?

I believe it depends

On the speaker

At least as much

As the listener.

Sometimes it hangs in the air

Until it lands

Softly

Or with a thud.

This may take days

Or weeks.

Thank you

For your transparency

She said.

I may wonder

Until weeks go by.

Then

I will stop

Wondering,

Until of course

Next time.

Ripples

My beloved teaches Congress and American Government at Northeastern IL University. We are watching the ripples together. We are both amazed. He is governmentally amazed. I am theologically amazed.

In my blue chair

On Mondays and Fridays

I watch the ripples move

Across the country

From a stone tossed

In our large

Country-sized pond.

First one judge

Now three

They decide to join

The movement

Of the waters

Skipping stones.

They land

Across the Potomac

Settle there.

Have you noticed?

It's important to pay attention to small things.

Have you noticed?

This country is more

Than hell

In a hand basket?

People sit up

And notice

And speak.

Congress may not make

Individual decisions

We like

But there’s that one judge

On the West Coast

He made a decision

All by himself

The ripples have traveled

Across the country.

Have you noticed?

Edge

With everything going on these days, I try to listen to everything. It is difficult. Of course, like everyone, I think my edge is dominant.

I listen

To the weather,

To my feet.

There is so much

To hear

On all sides

Even though

I would prefer

To choose three sides

Maybe two.

There is so much

To hear,

And I,

I think

I might have

Some edge

Over others.

Of course I don’t.

Still

From time to time

I think the edge

Is mine.

Half-time priest

I am now receiving my pension. They have some understanding that the years I have put in as a priest are full-time years, no matter what I was paid. I am grateful.

There is no such thing

As a half-time priest.

She may be paid

Half-time,

Spend

The another half

Holding hands

With parishioners

In the hospital.

There is no such thing

As a half-time priest.

Hours never count

The same

From place to place

Time to time,

Behind the altar

Or under.

The next thing

I still wonder who I will be when I grow up. Being 61, I have had several conversations with many who have the same question. Here we all are, doing some version of daily writing, or painting, or thinking and tossing it out into the world to see what comes back. Sometimes something does. Sometimes not. Here we all are, figuring out the next thing.

When I write

The next thing

Send it out into the world

Blog

Email

It does not matter

How many

How much

Who reads it.

I do not have

A publisher

To please,

To determine whether

The audience

Is large enough

For a run of 100.

I write for a run

Of one

Maybe two.

This

Is the next thing.

It is a reminder

To myself.

Bad things

Value judgments. Keep breathing.

She says

They come in threes:

Bad things.

I wonder

Who gets to name them

Bad or good.

Are good things numbered

As well?

Do good things

Come in sevens?

Do good things

Wait in the wings

To be named

Good?

Do we wait endlessly

One

Two

Three

Breathe

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Breathe again

Breathe breathe breathe.

Tarantella

My beloved read Ibsen in college, unlike me. He told me the name of the dance in The Doll's House. I have always read a lot, but somehow missed Ibsen. I knew the squirrels were dancing a wild dance, converting the backyard into one massive dance floor.

Ibsen

Was never part

Of the literature I read

In college

Or after.

I watch the squirrels

Chase each other

In the backyard.

It is a wild dance

Across the lawn,

The jumps from tree

To tree,

Branch to branch.

Even though Ibsen

Was never part

Of what I read,

It strikes me

That the squirrels

Are involved

In the tarantella,

And I,

I get to watch.

Rules of Confession

Grateful. Grateful. Grateful,

Now more than ever

I do not receive insurance

For anything I do

Or say.

The privacy of my office

Remains

The privacy of my office.

I have never been

So grateful

To not have

A license,

Only continued training

And supervision.

My office remains

Under the altar

In a church.

The rules of confession

Apply here,

Just as they apply

When I hear a confession

In the chapel.

The rules of confession.

I do everything

As the priest I have been

For over thirty years.