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.

Jesus and the moneychangers

I never know what will happen at church. This is mostly because I do not have my finger on the plans. I arrive expecting one thing, and encounter another. I am not in charge any longer. I most probably never was in charge. Surprise! No moneychangers! Surprise! A conga line of teens.

Because we are reading

The entire New Testament

For Lent,

Today we forwent

Jesus and the moneychangers

In the temple

In favor of

Hebrews,

James,

And all of Mark.

I went to church prepared to hear

About tables being overturned,

Doves being released,

The Temple being rebuilt

In three days.

Instead

Instead

We had Hebrews

James

And Mark.

Then a conga line of teens

Singing

We are marching in the Light of God.

Some other year

We will hear about

Jesus and the moneychangers.

Surprise

There is a post running around Facebook re: If you could sit on this park bench with anyone in the world, past or present, who would it be? I am never good at these exercises. The answer is always: It depends. Who is your hero? It depends. I can never choose. I read everyone else's answers. Hmm. This morning I sit in my blue chair, sun streaming through the window. I sit with the world at hand and I am surprised at the company I am given.

Surprise

I am awake earlier 

Than usual.

Surprise

My vision is clearer

Than it often is.

Surprise

I have a full

Unplanned day

Ahead of me

(Perhaps I will do laundry)

Surprise

The sun angles through the window

Just so,

Signals possible eventual spring.

Surprise

So many things yet to see

So many people

Yet to meet

Surprise

Surprise

Surprise

Who knew such a day

Might exist?

The best revenge

With the death of Fred Phelps comes the wealth (or paucity) of thoughts on what he will find in heaven.  May he be embraced and wonderfully surprised at the embrace, as we all will be... embraced and surprised.  Good living is often hard, for all of us, to come by.

The best revenge

Is life well lived.

Good living is often hard

To come by.

I have a lot to say

I tend not to preach what people expect to hear from the pulpit. Probably no surprise there.  The other Classics major in college (I went to a small school) also wrote poetry.  When we caught up with each other after I had been serving in parish ministry for awhile, he asked  about my poetry.  Oh, I said, I'm writing weekly sermons now.  The poetry energy is going into my preaching.  He was disappointed in me.  We  lost touch with one another.  I think he is out East somewhere.  Joe... are you out there reading??

I have a lot to say.

It seems most of it

Is not preach-able

To a large crowd of people,

Even if that crowd is styled

A congregation.

Nope.

I proved I could do it again.

Again

It is part of my resume.

People mostly responded

With the obligatory

Nice sermon

Or

You sing well

(yes, I sang during the sermon)

A couple heard

What I meant to say

Beyond the singing.

I have a lot to say.

Probably most of it

Is not preach-able

To a large crowd of people,

No matter what name

The crowd goes by.

I believe

With the UCC church

Down the block

That

God is still speaking.

Sometimes we hear Him

Sometimes we hear Her

In sermons.

Sometimes not.

When you told me you might have left

I live with the illusion that I am not easily fazed.  Except it seems I am.  Surprise.  Other people*s decisions affect me.  Surprise.  My decisions affect other people.  All the time.  The door swings both ways.

When you told me

You might have left

Except

Then

You didn*t,

I was surprised,

Even shocked,

At the depth

Of my sadness

Even though

You are still here

For now.

We are not even close friends.

The hinge that links

Our lives

Swings the door this way,

Then that.

Sometimes we don*t see each other

For days.

Still

I was shocked,

Even surprised.

I know the time will come

When I awaken,

Open the front door

For the morning paper,

Find the for sale sign

On your lawn

Swinging in the wind

And me

Shocked and surprised
Sad

Even then.

Promise of iris

Iris is a spring flower.  I often buy them in April.  In this hot steamy weather I had to buy them, even now in July.  They are in the black olive vase, on the dining room sideboard, surrounded by baby*s breath.

I purchased

The promise of iris

In July:

Two bunches of purple iris:

One pale,

One deep,

Both barely unfurled;

One bunch of baby*s breath

In honor of yesterday*s dream.

The iris shows some promise

Today,

The breath holds the space

Between the promise.

July is not the month

For iris.

I was surprised to see them

For sale.

I will coax them along

For another couple days,

Trim their stems,

Add new water.

The promise of iris

In July

Is always one

Worth honoring.

Surprise: an answer

Drove back home today to Illinois from Minnesota.  I didn*t get any writing done this morning, so perhaps an evening haiku is called for.  Seventeen syllables.  5-7-5.  Yep.  More 
in the morning.  For now, here goes:

Finally at home
I learned what I hoped to find.
Surprise!  An answer.

Death gathers us differently

Went to a memorial service yesterday.  The husband of a colleague had died unexpectedly.  It was interesting to me who showed, even who didn*t show.  It is always a surprise.  Always.  Next time it will be a surprise as well.

Death gathers people

Differently.

No invitations

To speak of,

Word of mouth or newspaper.

These days:

Disparate social media.

Death gathers us

Differently.

It is always a surprise

Even when expected.

The people who gather

Are often a surprise,

The people we had not planned to see

This week

This month

Even                         

This year

In this setting.

Death gathers us differently,

The segments of our lives

Weave

Unweave

Unplanned,

Almost always

Unplanned,

Uninvited,

Until it happens

Again.

Voting

We were going to vote early, but I*m glad we didn*t.  Instead, we ran the gauntlet of our neighbors, saw people we rarely see.  As always, there were ballot surprises.  I take some satisfaction in knowing one particular candidate counted us as HIS when we clearly aren*t.  I can*t imagine wanting to be county coroner.

As always

There are ballot surprises.

But first

The gauntlet of neighbors.

They check our name and address

Then

Check it again.

I have no opinion

About the county coroner.

The final question:

Should someone be allowed

To hold two offices at once?

I can*t imagine this

As a good idea.

No.

That was easy.

No.

The poll watchers tell us

(when asked)

We are on the list

As supporting someone

We would never support.

Ballot surprises.

There are always

Ballot surprises.

Pentecost surprise

This major day in the church year falls on Memorial Day weekend this year.  The gathering at 9:15 in church this morning was small.  I*m sure 10:30 was bigger, with four baptisms scheduled.  As a priest in so many parishes, I remember the ways we used to make the day stand out...people encouraged to wear red, the famous dove on the end of a long flexible pole leading the procession, red streamers, red and orange helium balloons, reading the Gospel in many languages, sometimes even a birthday cake for the Church.  

Was it all so surprising

When Pentecost fell?

They were told

Not to watch the place

Jesus ascended.

There was nothing particularly notable

About the soles of his feet.

Like Elisha

Who saw Elijah carried off,

The disciples saw Jesus leave

Yet again.

Was it all so surprising to them

When Pentecost fell?

Told to wait

In Jerusalem,

They trudged across the Kedron Valley

And waited.

They prayed

And waited.

Pentecost rained down.

Is it so surprising when Pentecost

Falls?

Falls again

And again

And again?

Every Sunday Christ is born

And dies,

And rises again.

Every Sunday the Spirit falls

Again and again

And again.

Still every day,

We are surprised.

Like the disciples.

It didn*t break

Another thing that will not win me parenting awards... but I did connect with the five-year-old....

Of course so many bad things

Might happen.

Still, all too often I want to say

Don*t you see how utterly astonishing

This is?

Don*t you see?

Don*t you see?

Today the small child in the store

Pulled over a glass vase

Twice as tall

As he was.

I heard it fall.

It didn*t break.

His mother quickly

Set it upright,

Sat the boy in the shopping cart.

His older brother and I looked at the vase.

It didn*t break

I said

Look at that!  It didn*t break!

Three more times

I ran into the family.

Each time the older brother

Said to me:

It didn*t break.

Each time I said:

Isn*t that amazing?

He nodded

Each time his mother

Wheeled his brother away

Safe in the shopping cart.

I know I will not get the gold seal

Of mother approval

For this one.

I can picture the older brother

At the dinner table,

Tucked in bed tonight,

Saying

It didn*t break.

Surprise bouquet

I love grocery store flower bouquets.  They come with interesting names like Celebration, or  Surprise.  The last bouquet came with a green butterfly on a wire.  Now it is the only thing in the flower vase.  A reminder.

The only thing left

Of the surprise bouquet

Is the butterfly.

The roses, deep yellow,

The gerbera daisies, splinted straight,

The eucalyptus,

They have all made their way to mulch.

The butterfly

(It came with the surprise)

Stays wired, still sways in the vase.

It reminds me

Of the bouquet,

A placeholder,

Unlikely green butterfly,

Reminiscent of nothing identifiable

To those with butterfly knowledge.

But still

A reminder of all

That surprises

Over and over again.

Resurrection life

A friend posted a beautiful Easter prayer which seemed to cover most contingencies.  Except of course, it didn*t.  There is no such thing as a prayer which covers everything.  I found myself focusing on what it lacked, which seemed to defeat the purpose of anything enlisting Resurrection life, the life we celebrate in this season.   So I wrote this instead.

This is my 27th anniversary of being ordained a priest.  The ordained life has not been what I expected from the beginning.  Ever.  It seems God has planted me unlabelled, and hung me slightly crooked.  I get older so my chain is a bit rusty.  I am grateful for Resurrection life out of all that seems to bring death.  God continues to breathe life into me and sing songs for my twining, like the clematis.  I know He does this for everyone, twining and blooming.  I believe even God can be surprised.

In the front yard the clematis

Take hold of life,

Begin to vine it

Around the pillars.

Soon enough they will offer

Purple and striped flowers.

One came without a tag

From the nursery last year.

I planted it anyway.

It will be a surprise

When it blooms.

I breathe on it,

Sing growing songs.

I do not know if it will match

Anything else.

The painted butterfly WELCOME

Hangs slightly crooked

From the garden post.

It used to hold a hanging pot.

No matter how often I straighten it

The butterfly moves to slant

Slightly,

Chain rusted,

Yellow unnamed butterfly

Intact.

No matter how we pray Resurrection life

It comes up different,

Blooms match one another in ways

We could never have planned,

Would never have thought of,

Wild, unpruned.

Welcome signs are almost always

At a slant

Except when they aren*t,

Of course.

Our particular Resurrection prayers

Could never cover the whole realm

Of possibility.

I breathe life and sing songs

To all the unlabelled flowers and vines.

I look for the welcome signs,

No matter how they hang,

The condition of their chains.

I breathe life,

Sing songs.

I know I*ll be surprised.

Easter Friday, normal things

The disciples had gone back to their livelihood, the place where Jesus found them in the first place.  They had gone back to the old familiar ways.  When everything is upside down and inside out, we find comfort in doing normal things.  But even in doing normal things, the result is just not the same normal.  Put your nets out the other side of the boat is not normal advice, and having it bring in 153  fish where it seemed there were none... well that*s not normal either.  So Jesus makes them breakfast on the beach and they break bread and eat fish... and they begin to see a new normal. 

When things are topsy-turvy

Upside down

When we don*t know

What to think or do,

We seek out

Normal things:

That old familiar place

We used to fish,

The particular spot

On the edge of the reeds

We remember

From before.

The pull of knotted nets

Our hands and arms, shoulders and backs

Know well.

We keep each other company.

We seek out the normal things

We know so well,

We don*t even have to think.

We don*t have to think

About normal things,

Only hope

They might bring back life as we knew it:

Work and food and sleep,

Repeat.

Work and food and sleep.

Repeat.

We catch nothing all night

Try it another way,

The man offers, from the shore.

We throw the old familiar nets

Off the other side of the boat.

We knotted those nets in the sun

Once upon a time.

It seems so long ago now,

Time has a way of expanding

In times like these.

Topsy turvy upside down

Times like these.

We want to get our bearings

Seek out normal things.

Go back to what we knew once.

What we once knew well.

FISH

153 FISH

It*s Him.  It*s Him.  It*s Him.

He found us here.

Even here.

Palm Sunday, anticipated

Tomorrow we will have a donkey at both the 9:15 and 10:30 services.  I am curious about the logistics, having had more than my share of interesting Palm Sunday procession experiences, with the usual players: cold weather, rain, unwilling participants, confusion (we only do this once a year), not to mention the end of the line being almost a full verse behind the beginning of the line, no matter how well the trumpet blares out *All Glory, Laud, and Honor*   This year we will add a donkey to the mix.  Animals always add their share of interesting to any situation.  I can*t wait.

Palm Sunday is always different

Than planned.

Whenever there is a group of people

Walking from one place

To another,

There is room for innovation,

Some planned,

Most not.

Growing up

We had palm sword fights

In procession,

Tickled one another with palms

Throughout the service 

when our parents weren*t looking.

How much sense does it really make

To import palm fronds to Minnesota?

We never considered substitutions.

On Palm Sunday we were in Jerusalem

Walking

Waving palms

Conducting sword fights

Tickling.

Tomorrow there will be a donkey,

An innovation sure to bring

Something different.

Whenever there is a group of people

Walking from one place to another

Led by a donkey

There is room for innovation:

Some planned.

Probably most of it

Will be a surprise.

Dayenu (for Brent)

I do not write for publication.  

This has frustrated the writers in my life, a number of beautiful writers in my life, who do write, at least in part, for publication.  God calls each of us in different ways.  I am grateful for the different ways.

When I began reading the book, Sacred Compass by Brent Bill, a book I had been meaning to order for about a year, discernment being one of my passions, I got to page 104, and there was a reflection I*d written about Mother Teresa when she died.  Then I remembered the email I*d received from Brent asking to use it in a book.  Sure, I wrote... then promptly forgot about it.  

When I shared the experience of discovery with my artist friend, Cecelia, and began naming the particulars in this reflection, her response to each one was Dayenu.  Dayenu is a song sung at Passover.  Part of the Haggadah, it means, in Hebrew:  It would have been enough for us.  It is sung after each piece of the Exodus story is recounted: the rescue from slavery, the giving of the Torah and the Shabbat,  If God had only given one of these, it would have been enough.  It seemed an appropriate expression.  Still does. I am grateful for each piece.  Each would have been enough.

There it is:

The reflection I wrote years ago,

In a beautiful book

Dayenu

I am published

Dayenu

The reflection illustrates a point

I meant to make

In writing it

Dayenu

Plus some

Dayenu

It is a book on discernment,

How God works

In our lives

Dayenu

How we can see God working

In our lives

Dayenu

I am seen

Dayenu

I am heard

Dayenu

I am held in the palm of God*s hand,

Blessed beyond belief

Dayenu

But not quite

Beyond belief

Dayenu

Dayenu

Dayenu

Way Open

The internship which I have struggled and strained and spent so much energy on... will happen... when it should.  It will even be at the place I knew was a fit from the beginning.  I liked them, they liked me.  The program was wonderful and solid and will give me the experience I need.  But the timing wasn*t right... simply wasn*t right.  I tried to finagle it.  No.  I am Very Good at Making Things Work.  Still no.  It seems this fall is Right.  Really?  Really?   Yes.  I*m glad I was not Sarah waiting for that baby, Abraham waiting for the promised succession of heirs.  Really?  Really?  Yes.

After what seems an eternity

Everything settles into place.

The original discernment last September

Was for September coming:

Not January,

Not June,

No amount of wrangling, interviewing,

Emailing, fingerprinting,

Made it different.

February found me in the new office

Listening through the door

to small children sing

The wheels on the bus go round and round.

It seems

I will have the summer to garden

The summer to drive

The summer to breathe.

Probably there are summer plans

I know nothing about.

There is a dandelion in my window well

The first of the dandelion season.

The Quakers say Way Open

The path when things fall

Together,

Doors open easily.

The wheels on the bus go round and round.

The quality of mercy is not strained,

Not Strained.

It falls gently

Like spring rains which bring forth

Sunny bright yellow dandelions.

Way Open.