So often

If I were preaching these days, this is what I would say...walking up to the pulpit with my walker.

So often

I find myself on that roof

Being lowered down

To Jesus

By friends

By my therapist

By people I never imagined

Could hold me

Even in a crowd.

So often

I realize

There is a hole

In that roof

And I

I am being lowered down

To Jesus.

How much is enough?

It's good to have friends.

Yesterday I discovered

I did more than enough

Continuing education.

In the name

Of making sure

I had enough,

I did

More than enough

To ensure

Enough-ness.

Oh, Catharine,

I hear one friend say

How much more

Do you need?

Really

How much more

Do you need?

Mostly grateful

Today my beloved explains my seizures to the folk I work with. The time has come. For this very private person, I am not looking forward to it. Still... I am mostly grateful.

In the midst of this life

My friends respond

As I know they will

My family comes in swinging

As I know they will.

In the midst

Of this life

There are always those

Who can be counted on

For an atta girl

For a prayer

For a cup of coffee.

Dare I say

There are also those

Who have never been there

In times like these.

Still I have learned

To give them the opportunity,

Then move on

From there.

In the midst of this life

I am grateful.

Mostly grateful.

Sixty

For Sue, traveling the West Coast; for Lise, writing screen plays in Texas; for Anne, auditioning for plays in Chicago; and for me. 

I wondered what sixty

Would be like

Oh

Oh

It’s not what I imagined.

It’s better than I thought.

A friend takes a road trip.

Another writes screenplays.

Still another auditions

For plays.

Me

I drive when I can.

I write when I can.

I try out

For new roles.

Sometimes I achieve things

It never occurred to me

I was trying

To achieve.

Surprise.

Surprise.

Sixty.

I wondered what sixty

Would be like.

On catching up with an old friend

There are many ways to celebrate my ordination anniversary year.  This may be the best one yet... finding again a friend who I worked and played with during that year back in 1983-84.  Here's to you, Kathleen Busby.  I look forward to more lunches and laughter in the year to come.  

Now it is dark

And almost five 

In the afternoon.

I did not write

This morning.

Over lunch

We shared just enough history

To catch up,

To realize again 

We have not changed

Substantially.

Neither of us.

Now we are free

To go on

From here.

Better

It is good to have friends who notice.

It is better

She says

To have breakfast

With the likes of Disappointment,

In the spring,

When the weather is warmer,

The light is clearer,

The trees full-blossomed.

How was breakfast

This weekend?

She asked.

I replied

I think we*re getting somewhere,

Wherever somewhere is.

Still Still Still

I thought to visit another church this Sunday.  The one I had chosen has its annual meeting.  No.  Then I considered a church I could walk to from my home.  I started thinking about the conversations we could have, and wanted to make sure I had my business cards.  Again... no.  Then I remembered silent Quaker meeting.  I will go there.  No one may say a word, but at the very least we will all listen together.

This Sunday I will go

To Quaker meeting.

No one will know me there.

Still

Still

Still

We will all listen

For the same thing

Illumined by the same Light.

Still

Still

Still

I know God will be there

In the midst of us.

No matter

If anything is spoken

At all.

Still

Still

Still.