Friday, November 2, 2018

The Texas Minister Preaches Revival, November 2 2018

Someone in the room, I don't know who,
is nettled. Is only here because
someone said it was a good idea,
and maybe wanted a spectacle. Some emotion.
Not this thick toast and honey butter.
Not this chutney with a bite.
This stings. This kneads the hardened muscles till
it burns deep down, and you want it
to stop, and you don't. You want water.
You want all the water in the whole world.
The wateriest water. You wake up
thirsty. You wake up mad. Not in the mood
for a lot of pesky questions.

Let's just pause here for a second:
What did you expect?
Nothing, hopefully. Or something
for everyone else but you.
Or something reassuring.
Not this repetitive dunking
in the Jordan. Not this familiarity
and fire. You like your prophets
dazzling and remote. Someone wrap a sheet
around the Holy Ghost. 

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Sunday, October 28, 2018

Blessed are the Pure in Heart, October 26 2018

Lord Jesus,
Please show me what is between us, give me a repentant heart.
Help me to be ready to do whatever it takes. We need to be right. There is no substitute for a clear conscience. The world sings around you. The dogs don't bite. The unicorns lay their heads in your lap.
And I want to see You.


Friday, October 26, 2018

Prove Something, October 22 2018

Please forgive me, Father, for wanting to prove something more than preserve and promote flourishing, shalom. Please protect others from me. Please convict me of sin, and assure me of freedom. Please draw me to purity: to real love of the GOOD.


Aftershock, October 11 2018

I woke up this morning around 9:30, aching and bleary and with a splitting headache. I also bled onto my sheets. My body held off during the taut days of preparation, and rolled in with a rush this morning. I made tea and hand-washed my laundry in the sink, in a quiet fog. I had a little yogurt with Mom and Dad, and went back to bed. I was mostly in bed all morning.

I keep thinking about yesterday. It brought people together. It told us that we really were safe, to be hurt and even to be ridiculous. How do we accept that we WILL be messy, make other people's lives harder and more complicated? We might actually be burdens.

I love life so much.
I love You, God. After big vulnerable open emotional/spiritual events, it's easy to retract and feel too naked or strangely discolored. Easy to suddenly not feel any of it. "Was that real? Do You exist, God?" And You continue the same. So gracious. Never canceling Your welcome. 

The Mug, for M., October 5 2018

I am drinking decaf tea out of a mug
that says, Will you be my maid of honor?
It came unexpectedly yesterday afternoon,
responsibly nestled in an Amazon box,
with a note from my brother's fiancĂ©e. It was
a complete surprise. I didn't expect to be
in the bridal party at all, I hardly know her,
but she knows what I mean to my brother,
and we are going to be sisters.
When my brother was born, I was disappointed
that he wasn't a girl. But he is giving me a new sister.

This afternoon I used the mug for the first time,
finishing off last season's pumpkin spice coffee
that my Dad had carefully labelled in a peanut butter jar.
He measured out the grounds into his French press,
I sniffed the past-date cream.
We practiced alchemy in our steaming mugs:
the perfect balance of fat and sweetness,
to our taste. We toasted. And we talked,
in the leisurely way you do when having coffee.

We talked about a lot today. At lunch,
we talked about rape culture, the blame put on victims,
the way I've found it difficult to speak up
or blow the whistle when I've been harassed.
I didn't tell my Dad particulars. I didn't
tell him how I gave away my favorite green dress
because too many men made comments, and one was suggestive.
I wanted to be a virtuous woman, not an object.
A maid of honor. I was comforted to see
that even though my Dad could not relate, he cared.
He didn't invalidate. I was safe.
I thought I might say more another time.

He just knocked and came in to say goodnight,
and to show me something he found in the cupboard:
a packet with a pot's worth
of pumpkin spice coffee.
He said Mom will join us next time. 

I Love My Life, October 4 2018

I love my life. I am writing this in pen.