Lavender

The kitten prowls in search of grandfather cat, hiding on the speaker box. The house smells of lavender. Me... I am here. It is not as simple as it looks.

The house smells of lavender.

The kitten sits

On the tweed reindeer.

I read poetry

Of being here,

Simply here.

I think

If it only were

So simple.

Day five of Christmas

The wise folk are on their way

Lavender

Kitten

Tree

Wise folk

Me in a chair

With directions

On what I need to do

Until Florida next week.

Lavender

Kitten

Tweed reindeer

The cats play chase

Around the Christmas tree

Me

I am here

Here I am.

Lavender

Lavender
Lavender.

Friends

Of course here changes with time. We leave for home today. First we stop in Asheville. I heard from friends in Thailand this morning. My beloved just heard from the church grease-trap people back in Illinois. Hmmm.

My friends are spread

All over the world

I should have known.

Me

I stay put

Somewhat

Consider where we might move

Or not

When the time comes.

My friends are spread

All over the world

I have been planted

Here

For now.

Now. Here. This.

I love to listen to Krista Tippett's On Being. Saturday's show was a repeat of an interview with Greg Boyle, a Jesuit who works with gangs in Los Angeles. He speaks of preparing for each encounter with this breath prayer: Now. Here. This. to remind him to remain present for this one moment in time, this one encounter. I like it. Now. Here. This. It allows me to hand out business cards, plant a seed, and maybe, just maybe, work with that person... eventually.

I have,

Slowly,

Learned to carry business cards

In every pocket,

Leave them outside

My office door.

I hear you’re good

She says.

I wonder who told her,

But that is not

For casual conversation.

I am,

Slowly,

Learning

People may take my card,

Gratefully even,

Fold it over in their wallet

And perhaps

Only perhaps

Call me in a year or two

When they’re ready.

Contemplating Easter

Life does not always carry with it what we expect.  The trick is to recognize Easter here... wherever here is.   Oh yes, we say, oh yes, even here the sun shines through the window, makes a puddle of light on the floor.  Even here the tomb is empty.

The blue and sun enter

Even such sterile places.

We have been here before

And know the life;

It permeates even here,

Maybe especially here.

The tomb is empty.

We have been here before.

We may be here again.

We practice Easter

Four days in

Hear the laughter.

It rolls like so many stones

Large and small,

from the empty tomb,

Even here.