Interview with the Universe

Apparently there’s some sort of meteor thing going on, so last night when I woke to up go to the bathroom I decided to head on outside to see what was what. In anticipation of the event, Dr. M had set up a citronella candle and a chair in the middle of the yard. There is a LOT of ambient light in our neighborhood so I didn’t think I would be able to see much.

So, it’s 1:45 a.m. and I trundle outside in my pajamas and sit in the damp chair (ooh – that helped calm down the hot flash!). Dr. M said that it takes 30 minutes for your eyes to adjust to darkness so I was hoping to be out there for at least 30 minutes – even though it wasn’t actually all that dark. But then the neighbors came home (loudly), and I sneezed, and I kept getting distracted by the lights around me, so I lasted 15 minutes. Go me! Ha.

But oh the stars! Even though it wasn’t all that dark around me, the sky was completely clear & the more I looked, the more stars I could see. I was wishing I was awake enough to go drive out into the country because then I just know I would have been able to see ALL THE STARS.

I slip on my purple
bamboo flip-flops
and slide out the door
into a cacophony of
night music.
The cool damp is glorious –
the chair placed just so:
This is an interview
with the universe
and I am wearing
purple pajamas
that match the purple
bamboo flip-flops.
The universe asks
one question only:
“What do you see?”
“Grace,” I reply,
“and the vast open arms
of redemption.”
And the great
cricket chorus
Says, “Amen!”

Here you go, dear Bug: Perseus, about 4:30am EDST ~ Dr. M

We interrupt this Lent…

The table is waiting.

It sits without judgment.

Bread and wine

and open arms

waiting.

What can I do?

Nothing but walk to

the waiting table

and say yes.

I’ve accepted a leadership position at my church. I just composed this long explanation of what it is (Junior Warden) & why I’m nervous about it (total lack of experience) & why I’m excited (I get to learn new stuff). But really, unless you’re an Episcopalian none of that matters. Anyway, prayers if you pray, good vibes if you vibe, nice thoughts if you think… Please and thank you.

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do,
    what God is looking for in men and women.
It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor,
    be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don’t take yourself too seriously—
    take God seriously.

Micah 6:8

The Message (MSG)

Not Quite Thankful Thursday

Is this what depression looks like? I am daydreaming about winning the lottery. After thinking about what charitable bequests I would make and considering the matter of trust funds for niece & nephews & other children we know, I get down to the nitty gritty. What special wonderful things do I want to have money for, for myself?

I would pay off our bills.

I would pay someone to clean my house.

I would get to sleep late.

I’m obsessed with sleeping. I want to put a pallet in a spare office at work so I can take an afternoon nap. I want to (but rarely do) go to bed at 9:00 pm every day. I never want to get up in the mornings – whether it’s 6:00 on a work day or 9:30 on the weekend. The idea that I might have enough money so that I don’t have to get out of bed is bliss.

I go through the motions of prayer (using the Anglican rosary that Dr. M gave me), but I really don’t want to have anything whatsoever to do with God. I skip church. I do the happy dance when Bible Study is canceled. I glance at God sideways and go, “shoo!”

On the other hand, I’m happy with my job and my husband. I love our little house & the things we’ve planted and the birds that make us laugh. I don’t even mind my long commute because I get to “read” a lot more books that way (currently playing: Whisper to the Blood a Kate Shugak mystery by Dana Stabenow).

I’m content, except for that business of wanting to sleep late. Perhaps my dreams are filled with the God I’m avoiding and I think that five more minutes will provide the secret to life. Hmm. I think I’ll pay closer attention when I do my rosary tonight. 

A Psalm

I.
Unsayable and unformed prayers
Carom off of hope and dread
Until there is no part of my being
That doesn't commune with God


II.
By day I see your face
In the crowd around me
By night I am wracked
By doubt and insignificance


III.
The dark swallows
Communion and joy
But in the morning hope
Perches by my bedroom door


IV.
I will close my eyes
And dream of the ones
Who love me and
The One who loves me


V.
Come morning I will
Take hope's hand
Once more.


This is a One Shot Wednesday poem.

Kitchen Sink

I'm continuing to drag out things I've already written (I promise that I won't start posting all 16 of our annual Christmas poems - at least until Christmas!). I'm not sure what prompted me to write down these thoughts - although I totally remember that time in my life & why I was thinking these things. We'd been married a little over a year at that point & we were moving to Asheville for Dr. M to go to school (unbeknownst to either of us we were starting on the journey that led us here to Ohio). I've added some paragraph breaks because it's easier to read that way, but the original version was just one long free-flowing thought process. Here we go!

I am standing at the kitchen sink talking to God. It is like writing a letter to my fourth grade best friend: I have moved so far away from her that I don’t know what language to use. “God,” I say, “we need to get reacquainted.” And then I pause, mesmerized by the soap bubbles that seem so much more real than God. You see, I am a present moment person. That’s what everyone says, and I have to reason to doubt them.

My husband, the historian, tells my parents, on a tour of Raleigh, “This is where the civil war earthworks are.” I, on the other hand, point to an intersection, “This is where the spark plug fell out of my car!” Sure, earthworks are interesting, but spark plugs are real. And that is my problem with God who, at the moment, is an earthwork and not a spark plug. How do you talk to a relic? And why?

The problem is this: I need to decide what to do with my life. At least, that’s what everyone tells me, and I have no reason to doubt them. I, present moment person that I am, have been content to drift dandelion-along, taking life as it comes. My college degree pointed me in a certain direction, but I have largely ignored it. We’re moving. I’ve always wanted to live in Asheville. But now THE DAY OF RECKONING IS AT HAND. I am supposed to use this move as a career stepping stone. Career! Goodness! I have never wanted a career – I want to have fun!

I understand that the right career can be fun, and so I feel honor-bound to search for my niche, but it feels very unreal to me. This is where God comes in. I used to assume that I was, indeed, being led by God. That sure took a load off of my shoulders! God just opened the door and I went through. And then I went to seminary, where I learned that not only is God not who I thought she was, she/he was not going to nudge me along the path of righteousness. I have options! And not only that, any option may turn out to be the right one! I’m no Calvinist. I left seminary believing that God’s will is not a road, it is an attitude. I am free to be God’s child wherever I am.

And so. I am talking to a stranger at the kitchen sink. “God, we need to have a talk. I can’t see you very clearly now, and my path is full of possibility. I’m scared! How do I know what door to open? I am full of contradictions. I want to write. I want to work with computers. My skills are in other areas. I feel reluctant to think in terms of ‘career’. Are you there?” Dirty dishwater. Clean dishes. I look outside my window. Our yard is dotted with dandelions. White frizz floats on the breeze and I think that I will burst with freedom and responsibility. I am my own person. I choose to think “avocation” and unchain myself from career nightmares. My historian and I will survive, though I don’t find my niche. After all, I am a dandelion – small and useless in a box, filled with power on the wind.

March 23, 1992

Our wedding day, December 15, 1990. We were pretending to ring the church bell. I sort of had this southern belle thing going on. As you can tell from my expression, it was a good day.