Think again

Thinking this morning of the people who have shown up in times of loss and times of joy.  The expected people, of course, but also the unexpected ones... like my high school friend*s mother who came to Dad*s funeral... for me... even though I hadn*t seen her in years.  I also think of the unexpected people who share my joys and show me the Kingdom spreads out way beyond any boundaries I have ever imagined.  When you think it doesn*t matter... think again.

When you think

It doesn*t matter:

Think again.

When you think

You won*t be missed:

Think again.

Your presence may be,

It may simply be,

That one thing that shows

One person

The whole world

Is aware

Of their loss,

Of their joy.

When you think

It doesn*t matter,

Consider your presence

Just might possibly be

A sign of the Kingdom

In attendance.

Think again.

Then

Think again.

This is another day

Another prayer resource from the 1979 Book of Common Prayer.  It is found hidden away in the additional prayer section.  I remember a seminary classmate pointing it out years ago, talking about how useful it had been in her hospital Clinical Pastoral Education the previous summer.  

In the midst of illness and grief and tragedy, whatever we do in these times, let us do them consciously, and with the Spirit of Jesus:

This is another day, O LORD, I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready LORD, for whatever it will be. If I am to stand up, Help me to stand bravely. If I am to sit still, Help me to sit quietly. If I am to lie low, Help me to do it patiently. And if I am to do nothing, Let me do it gallantly. Make these words more than words, and Give me the Spirit of Jesus, Amen.~From The Book of Common Prayer (1979)

Keep watch

There is a prayer in the service of Compline (bedtime prayers) in the Book of Common Prayer.  It is one of the prayers I used to pray with my children while putting them to bed.  I still say it when putting myself to bed, particularly when a whole host of tragedy seems to have taken charge.  Here is the prayer:

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep.
Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen.

And my prayer:

Keep watch, dear Lord,

Every time we are reminded:

Grief and loss and tragedy prevail.

Keep watch, dear Lord,

When the ground heaves and swells

And we

Heave and swell

With it.

Keep watch

When skies open up,

Raindrops pour down

Like oh so many tears.

Keep watch

Keep watch

Oh please

Keep watching

When blows to the safety

Of those we love,

Blows to the safety

Of those we have yet

To love

Rain down.

Keep watch while we aim

To catch our breath,

And then

To know

What*s next.

Loss is in the air

Today was the Sunday after All Saints.  I have rarely thought as much about this being the beginning of the end of the year.  The lessons wind down to Apocalypse, which is, of course, an ending which turns around to begin again with Advent.  Alpha and Omega, beginning and end, and  beginning again... with the end taken into account.

Loss is in the air.

Gray and gold and chilly,

I know I smelled snow

Yesterday,

Felt the waft of almost bittersweet

Loss

Down my back.

Today we sang a song

Of the saints of God,

Patient and brave and true.

We heard again

God makes all things new.

Loss is in the air.

It blows down my back.

This is the beginning of the end

Yet still:

Trustworthy and true

God brings all things new

Alpha and Omega

And finally

Back to Alpha

Again.

Trustworthy and true

All things new but still

I remember the wind

Down my back,

The scent of snow.

Loss happens

Wow.  What a week.  

Naomi Shibab Nye, a poet I love, speaks of teaching young children to write poetry.  One of the exercises she uses is to ask them to write a list of what they have lost.  The lists go on and on.  Small things, large things.  Young children, mind you.  When we get older, we tend to categorize things into big and small losses.  Of course it depends on who you are and how you categorize big and small.  Still.  Loss is loss.  It is personal, intensely personal.  Sometimes we make casseroles for others, and sometimes we receive them.

Loss happens.

Inevitably

Loss happens.

If it doesn*t happen to us today,

This week,

Our mortality still sits

On our shoulders,

On the shoulders of those

We love.

It whispers in our ear.

It reminds us that this is what we get.

Pay attention.

This is what you get.

Some weeks, like this week,

It piles on.

The only thing we can do

Really do

Is hold someone*s hand.

Perhaps,

Bring a casserole,

The time-honored casserole,

Somehow macaroni and cheese

In times like these,

Maybe even a spiral-cut ham

Offers something.

Sometimes it is our turn

To answer the doorbell,

Receive the ham.