Origami crow

It is my beloved's birthday. He is sleeping in because that is one of his favorite things to do. I am grateful I bought his birthday present in March, before all Hell broke loose. He is a particular fan of crows. All birds really. But crows in particular, This is part of his present as well. One I can still give in the aftermath of Hell appearing.

I want to get back

To writing every day

Somehow

Writing every day.

It doesn’t quite matter

What I say.

Today is the birthday

Of my beloved

I bought his present

Before all Hell

Broke loose.

Did I know something?

I lie in the rented hospital bed

With his present

Displayed on the bookshelf

In front of me

An origami crow

Made of recycled barbecue grills

Found on Brighton Beach

Even though we vowed

Not to collect any more

Things

At this stage in our lives.

How could I resist

An origami crow

Made

From recycled barbecue grills

Collected on Brighton Beach?

I bought it and gave it

Before

All Hell broke loose.

Did I know something?

Fully here

For Erik on his 29th birthday... fully here.

I remember the day before

You were born,

Sunny and muddy,

Labor in short spurts,

A walk through the student union.

You waited to arrive

Until your due date

Even then

You had to be coaxed

Into the world.

When you came

You were fully here

Yes

Fully here.

Full day

Today holds a conference, new faces, perhaps some old; a client; and a closing birthday dinner for my beloved. Right now it holds coffee, cat, flowers and sun. A good beginning.

I face a full day

The cat

The flowers

The sun

Call me forth

Into the promise.

In the midst of life

Today brought a gift of a sermon to my email box. 

http://inwardoutward.org/tag/lent-year-b/?utm_source=inward%2Foutward+email+subscribers&utm_campaign=cd4721c677-The+Story&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_791e8aa8ec-cd4721c677-70564269

A gift for my sixtieth birthday. Lovely.

In the midst of life,

We are in death.

In the midst of death

Life.

Palms strewn

Donkeys ridden

Crowds cheering

On the way

To the upper room

To the Garden

To beyond.

But that is for later.

In the midst of life,

I am in death.

In the midst of death,

Life.

Today my birthday

Holds hands

With both,

One on either side.

We intertwine our fingers.

All is as it must be.

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.

Trinity (sort of)

A friend read me his Trinity sermon.  It got me thinking in new directions.  Good sermons... do that.

Yesterday

We began the weekend

Of the daughter’s 18^th birthday

The age of majority

Rates at least three days

If not an octave

Perhaps a novena.

A friend wrote his Trinity sermon

It named the importance

Of naming at least three options

For everything.

Yesterday was the birthday

With friends

Today is the birthday

With family

Tomorrow has yet

To be named.

Dreams melt

This weekend my dreams combined people from past parishes with my current parish, even as we were in Denver exploring possibilities for next year, and I celebrated year 59.  We are home now. The cat seems grateful.  I am grateful for another year of living, and looking forward to the coming year, even as I dream of  people and time and experiences melted together.  Maybe spring is finally here.  

Dreams melt

Pieces of history together

Like so many

Wax color crayons

Left in the sun.

People who have never met

Have rich engaging conversations

At night.

At night they even appear

Fast friends.

Dreams melt

Places and times together

Childhood trips to the beach

Take a single minute

End in mountain snow.

At night.

At night vacations

Meld the train trip to California

At age seven

With the time we rented a car

In our fifties.

Drove the hill country around L.A.

Me in the back seat

The GPS steering us in the wrong direction

For ice cream.

Dreams melt

Potentially disparate events

Together.

This weekend

We added Denver to the mix.

I wonder what night conversations

Will be included

By this crayon discovered

In the light of day.

Birthday announcement

Sound asleep, I heard the voice on my phone proclaiming a text from my son.  Fuzzily I tried to answer out loud.  It's a text, said the sleepy voice next to me.  It's a text.

The phone is set

To announce messages

In a tinny female voice.

She woke me this morning

From dream-filled sleep

Proclaimed a text

From my son.

He thanked me

For his birth and life

Here

At the end of his 26^th year

It’s been a good life

He wrote.

I remember it was warm

The day before he was born

One of the first warm days

Of spring

No snow on the ground

It was warm

I tell you

Warm.

His dad and I walked

Around the campus

At the University of Chicago.

We hoped to bring on

Those first pains

Of labor.

He was born the next day

Exactly on his due date,

27 years ago.

Good Friday

This is not the first time my birthday has fallen during Holy Week or Easter.  It is the fate of all of us with late March or early April birthdays.  My office is at the church.  The nave is overhead.  Last night I heard the altar stripping from below, in the company of my client.  Tonight I have been told of the pouring out of wine after the Good Friday service, under the full moon.  This night will not be like other nights.

Today is Good Friday.

Today is my birthday.

Today is absolutely blue and gorgeous.

I slept in late.

Last night

After the Agape meal,

I met with a client

During the footwashing,

Eucharist,

Altar stripping.

I missed the leaving in silence.

On the way out of the building

I waved to Jesus

In the Garden of Gethsemane

Set up in the chapel.

Tonight I am told

After the service

The women of the altar guild

Pour the remaining wine

On the ground

In the outside columbarium

Under the full moon.

I do not know

If the women dance,

Good Friday quiet of course.

I wonder if they dance.

Sixteen

She is sixteen on the sixteenth.  Her golden birthday.  Her father and I now snooze downstairs.  We wait for her to get up for school.  None of us are really morning people.   I am watching the balloons.  I think single digit birthday balloons are a lot clearer, or perhaps double digit same number ones...

Sixteen

or sixty-one?

The gold mylar balloons out front

Can*t make up their numbered minds.

They are tethered

To the only sign we could find

In the party store

That made sense:

It*s a Girl!

That*s a certainty.

If only the gold balloons

Would make up

Their numbered minds

In the morning breeze.

I imagine they will switch back and forth

All day.

Birthday

Today we drive to Minnesota to see son Erik (age 25).  We may not make it in time for dinner because, while it seemed a good idea to leave early, now it seems a better idea to leave late.  I am the birthday girl.  I decree it.  Of course it is entirely possible to do this on other days of the year.  Still... it is easier to decree things on one*s birthday.

It is my birthday.

I use my birthday power

To slow down the day.

Because we drive to Minnesota

Because I made the motel reservations

Because now I am 57

And it is my birthday,

I declare we will take the day

Slower,

Leave later,

Pay attention to the cheese curds

On our way through Wisconsin.

On the bridge over the St. Croix

 from Wisconsin

To Minnesota

We will lift our feet

So they won*t get wet.

We will do it again

When we cross the Mississippi.

It is my birthday.

I decree

We will slow down

The day.