Thursday, August 17, 2017

Splendor, August 8

Such a good day. Store time was smooth and fun (I actually helped scoop ice cream for most of it). I had enough time in the morning to spray off the recyclables and cull them (gross) and consolidate merch. It felt good. No more orders. But I called Nelson's and thanked them. Counted soda machine $. Ate baked ziti while manning the office, and there were no calls.

Game Night was fun. Spoons (which only gained momentum, increasing in pitch & danger & foul spoonfuls of food for losers), Dutch Blitz, Picture-Down-The-Lane, Uno.
I went to Traber afterward, to swing, and the moon... it was full, golden, rising above the trees in a special show of splendor. What I mean is that it felt important, and made me want to cry and open my mouth to receive the Eucharist. 

Monday, August 14, 2017

Hope, July 13

Here in bed. It's been a hopeful day. At least, a day of moving out
of crisis mode (you can't live there forever, even when the crisis
continues). A quiet-inside day.

Lord, I'm aching over her. And I'm sad and sorry that "peace and
harmony" sound hollow.
Keep my hands open.
Help me not try to take on all these burdens that I can't handle.

Thank You for the sweetness of friends visiting.
God, I want You. 

Comatose, July 12

Lord,
I need to feel Your grace in all this madness. What feels like madness,
chaos, mess.
Please show her Yourself.
Please take all the broken, helpless pieces of me.
Thank You for "The Broken Way", and for kindness, and for a comatose few minutes on the office floor. For sustaining me time and time again.
Help me pray. Help me love.
Make me willing to be broken open by You, and use me. 

Monday, August 7, 2017

But Today. Now.

Another bless├ęd day. Punctually clothed. 
Receiver of all Your Fatherly 
beneficence,
Your furs
and wings
and iridescent petals.

Universal donor. Is it all there, in the details? 
In what we are embarrassed, in our own sophistication, to name? 
But I want to be wowed.
Not just at the altar, in a wedding dress, 
but today. Now.


(July 21)

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Chalk, June 30/July 1



I feel like a soft piece of chalk, scraped along the macadam. There’s a nub of me left. I thought maybe a full night of sleep would sweep up my crumbs into a mound and help me reabsorb myself, reform, be who I think I am (so much of me is scattered over the last few weeks…). But that’s not how it works. I don’t lose myself that easily, and the only way to gain myself is in You. And no number of kisses can satisfy a supernatural pica. So steer me from navel-gazing and sensuousness. And feed me Your flesh. Eucharisteo.

Insomnia, June 27


It seems You are giving me a second lease on this night. One of the girls was sleep-talking, and it shook me out of my drift toward unconsciousness. So I’m very awake now, and sick with exhaustion, but grateful (or trying to be) for the way you fish my soul of deep waters with the elusive bait of sleep.  No matter how I may dissemble, I cannot remain agnostic when You call me out into starlight. I could wake an atheist, but I cannot sleep that way. THANK YOU for Your mercy. Forgive me of my pride and anxiousness to control, label, settle matters, and be safe. You are my only safety. 
You surround me on every side.

Oikonomia, June 19

Lord, I’ve already been talking to You, but help me talk more. And listen. Help me to pour out my complaints to You so they don’t grow into me and stunt me. This is a turning point. I want to grow. But I am hurt.
Why?! Why all these back taxes, complications, time Dad has spent, time we’ll both have to spend? Why did You let me go wrong for 4 years? Why debt?
Why have I been buying underwear at the thrift store, scrimping on groceries, saying no to social events, carpooling, budgeting, making old supplies stretch, eating expired food, tithing extra? 

I’m trusting You to be gracious with my complaints. I think I need to see them on paper to remember how easy I’ve got it.

But it hurts to count the dollars every time I drive, to be relieved when I can’t go to an event, to count it a sacrifice to go to prayer meeting. To be afraid of seeming needy and dependent. God, I want to bless my parents. I want to send care packages whenever. I want to buy fresh fruit. I want to take friends out for coffee on their birthdays. I want an easel, and new brushes, and to be able to afford a haircut on occasion. Or to buy a new pair of shoes. I’m ridiculous.

God, I want to go out to the movies sometimes. Or buy a friend’s artwork. Or sponsor someone in a significant way. I want to own a house someday. I don’t want a man to save me. I want You to save me. I don’t want to be rescued out of ineptitude and a victim complex. I want to be strong and mature, to have something to offer. Not to be proud, but to be capable and confident. I’m afraid. I don’t know what I need. And I don’t want to decide for You what You are doing, but I want You to do it, whatever it is, and move in me, however You will, and make me able to trust You and worship You when it would be easier to curse and cry and give up.
Work a miracle here. Don’t let anything (me) get in the way of Your power and glory, of Your redemptive display. Have Your way in me.
Your kingdom come.
I am the Lord’s servant.
May it be to me as You will.