Thirty-Six: By the Numbers

One: expected guest.
One: bunch of flowers.
One: dancing e-card.
One: Rachmaninoff Prelude.
Two: happy birthday calls.
Two: types of pie.
Three: cards.
Three: unexpected guests.
Four: helium balloons.
Four: candles to blow out.
Six: pizzas.
Eight: birthday texts.
Eleven: birthday emails.
Thirteen: hours of party.
Fourteen: Facebook greetings.

It’s been a good year!

The Fruit of the Spirit

The Word:
Love, Joy, Peace,
Patience, Kindness, Goodness
Faithfulness, Gentleness, Self-Control.

The Message:
Affection for others,
Exuberance about life,
Serenity.

A willingness to stick with things,
A sense of compassion in the heart,
A conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people.

Loyal commitments,
Not needing to force our way in life,
Able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.

Sounis

All my life they had made choices for me, and I had resented it. Now the choice was mine, and once it was made, I would have no right to blame anyone else for the consequences. Loss of that privilege, to blame others, unexpectedly stung.

We read all day, hour after hour,
A couple hundred pages of intrigue.

I hadn’t understood it all the first time,
But now, with the help of a map I drew and
The slower pace of reading aloud and explaining,
We waded through what was said and unsaid,
And came out, in the end, quietly moved.

The first three books rely on sheer awesomeness,
With a hero who can do everything
With aplomb and foresight.
And though he orchestrates all still,

This book’s hero is one more human-scale,
Uncertain, peace-loving.

He chooses what he would not,
Hoping, in the end, for what comes to pass:

Peace.

Ugly Duckling Hospitality

We have several friends who excel in hospitality.
In Boulder, I always felt like the ugly duckling,
Not ever quite the most-loved, the most-popular,
And it frustrated me both in its understandability
And its predictability.

So it caught me off-guard recently to realize both
That our home may be the most-popular,
And that we might, inadvertently, discourage others
From using their gift of hospitality.
The former I have no wish to change;
The latter I have no idea how to prevent.

But it is good for me to consider my heart,
That hospitality is not a competition,
That there is room for us all,
And, indeed, need.

Thirty-Five: By the Numbers

Five: sons another year older.
Four: divorces of friends.
Sixteen: major parties.
Four: people cry in our recliner.
One: house finished.
Two hundred: pounds of apples from trees.
Six: cows to the butcher.
One: week at the beach.
Four: shockingly powerful prayer times.
One: album release.
Seven hundred: poems written, plus a few more.
Uncountable: laughs, tears, friends.

Anticipation of the Unknown

I delivered sons to a friend’s house today,
And happened to get stuck behind a grader.
I was surprised by how irate I felt,
Until I glanced at the speedometer,
And it didn’t register a number,
Hovering around zero.

I was prepared to turn around at the next drive,
And admit defeat amid a rising sense of panic,
When the grader pulled over and let us squeeze by.

Gracious … but I thought about and dreaded
The return trip.

Which ended up being a non-issue.

So much emotional upheaval over a three minute delay.

Anticipation of the unknown often is worse than
What we deal with.

Puzzles

I am not very good at puzzles,
Possessing neither an artist’s eye
Nor the patience of Job,

But sometimes I find it satisfying
To lock piece with piece,
Creating order out of chaos.

To sit and be present,
And talk a bit,
While we see what picture unfolds.

Two Degrees

A homeschool mom I know online
Went today to deliver fresh herbs to a friend,
Only to find the house boarded up,
The brick painted safety green.

The phones were disconnected, too.

A neighbor came by and said that after Thanksgiving
The mother and daughter were beaten
To death,
The house set on fire.

I recognized that story.

But after a semester of mass murder,
And gang rape,
Our weary small city could hardly handle
Yet one more terrible story.

And so, as happens in terrible stories in small towns,
I find myself again just two degrees of separation
From horror.

There is no reasonable response.

Drummed

I’ve read the board book
Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb
To five sons now.
I bounce them gently as I tap
The rhythm
On legs or belly or book.

Caleb was playing with me
In the bedroom, banging on the door,
When I tapped out the board book rhythm
And quoted a line.

He looked first at my hands,
To ensure the book was not there.

Then he ran to the living room,
Searched shelf, searched floor,
Snagged book, and ran back.

And we read, and drummed,
Together.

What a Relief

A friend said,

I saw the future incarnation of you
At Whole Foods.
Similar hair, similar look,
Just old.

Yeah, you’re going to be fine.

Holmes

Decades back, when I read
The Complete Sherlock Holmes,
I remember Dr. Watson
Informed Holmes that the earth revolves around the sun.
Irate, Holmes informed his friend
That he would endeavor to forget such information
As swiftly as possible,
As it made no difference to him in his work.

Holmes sought practicality above all.

That scene has tainted my appreciation of trivia
For the last twenty years.

So when Phil answers more trivia questions correctly,
I can, perhaps, feel superior in a literary sense.

Would that be a win for us both?

Connection

I wonder if, in my desire
To be useful
To be helpful
To be loving

If I miss the simple pleasures
Of a smile
Of a hug
Of time to just be.

Harry Potter the First

The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. … It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. … It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.

I have never read the primary
Literary cultural phenomenon
Of this (and maybe every) generation.
One down, six to go.

I mostly felt indifferent,
Beyond a Puritan sense of horror
At reading the words
Warlock and witch repeatedly.

But I did like one line.
May we all be so content
That we desire nothing else.

And yet … is that even reasonable?
“But earnestly desire the greater gifts,”
Says Paul.

I have read Book One.
I am not yet impressed.

Caleb Comes for a Hug

Forward, at a run.
Backward, hands behind, sinking onto my lap at the right moment.
Forward, but looking to the side, as if by accident.
Forward, falling into my arms.
Forward, arms wide, body slam.
Forward, arms down, pausing just before me, as if he changed his mind.
Forward, weaving side to side, grinning.

For someone without words,
This was an astonishing sequence of creative thought.

Backache

Homeopaths speak of how
Physical pain sometimes reveals
More of the inner life
Than is comfortable.

So when I woke with a backache,
I wondered if it was simply a matter
Of sleeping funny

Or if I was bearing more than I should.

Which was a thought to make me
Uncomfortable.

I thought I was doing (mostly) okay.

After a day of excruciating pain,
I took the remedy that brought me out of despair
Two years back.

After an hour nap, I woke up to feel
Just about normal.

File this away in
Things that make you go hmm.

Empty

When my friend felt
Empty

God said
Exactly.

Live in the tension.
Be.

And there came
Peace.

Question: Answer

Just assume the answer to every question is compassion.

This last week I have thought
How much we all need love,
How easily we all are deflated,
How kindness is never wasted.

This has been my rumination.

So when a friend asked
How to treat another friend,
I had an answer ready.
Not because I knew the answer.

Because the answer lives in me.

Playroom Grace

The boys don’t say much
After one of our parties.
Occasionally I hear that
A child is not very well behaved.
They don’t elaborate.

Today, an adult friend did.

We had a guest, age four,
Whose first act on entering
The playroom was to kick
The meticulous piles Isaiah had made
To efficiently rebuild the Lego set
That Caleb had earlier destroyed.

This was not an auspicious beginning.

Jadon did some judicious redirection.
“Those might be a little old for you,
But we have many fun toys you might enjoy.”

Distracted for a time, peace reigned.

The child stood up on the built-in bookshelf
And declared, “I am the strongest of all!”

All ignored him.

Until he threw himself on Jadon’s back unexpectedly,
So that Jadon, overbalanced, fell.
Lego imprint on face, Jadon patiently
Explained to the boy that
We don’t fight in our family.
We try to get along.
After he tried throwing punches, or otherwise
Attacking, the question came up:

“Would you like me to go get your father?”
No, the boy wouldn’t.

“He probably isn’t used to so much sugar,”
Said Isaiah, offering an excuse on the child’s behalf.

Peace returned.

Until the boy decided to punch the baby.
Caleb, happily tossing a toy that another retrieved,
Did not realize he was in danger
Until it was over and he was down.

Jadon could not take it.
He grabbed the boy’s wrists and declared fiercely,
“We do not punch the baby!”
The boy then tripped on a toy and went down.

And got up to get his father.
The father came to figure out what happened,
When a girl guest spoke up.

Beginning with the Legos, she told
And told,
And when she ended with, “And then he punched the baby!”
The father grabbed his son
And left the room.

All this was reported to me by
My friend, who had watched in wonder
As my boys patiently
Redirected, explained, taught, excused, defended …

When they probably wanted to
Pummel.

I don’t think that’s my training.
I think we could say that is the work of the Holy Spirit.
Grace in action, by my sons, in our playroom.

Sharing

A friend once said
That to share happiness
Feels more vulnerable
Than to share pain.

I thought of that today
As I realized that I grow
Uncomfortable
Answering questions about
My life.

It’s good, I say with honesty,
But I don’t know
That I want to say more.

It feels almost frivolous
To share good
When the world has so much bad,
So many wounds to be salved.

But maybe the good
Could be a salve?
Maybe it, too, should be shared?

Wherever I Go

When we farmed and things failed,
It tore me up.
I knew I carried my need to be perfect,
But finally decided the life-and-death
Stakes in farming were not my favorite,
And I quit.
It’s not like I had nothing else to do.

The thing is, I can look practically perfect
For a good while to friends.
But eventually that façade fails.
And then I am not sure if I am yet likable.

I had thought I was managing the perfection,
But it looks like I just transferred it,
With all its pernicious self-immolation.
Let the tearing commence.

Addiction

The opposite of addiction is not sobriety. It is human connection.

I read a report that
Addiction
Is not a matter of chemical dependency only.

A rat in a cage alone returns to the cocaine water
Again and again, yes.

But put the rat in a stimulating environment
With rat friends, and that same addicted rat
Ignores the cocaine water, and re-enters society.

Assuming the report is true:
How can we expand love and connection
To those in unwanted cages?

Use My Skills

In the last week, I have
Edited

A website
A grad school letter of intent
A polite refusal of romantic interest

I am glad my community
Finds uses for my skills.

This Happens

I come across the Facebook evidence
Of a marriage of close friends

Separated.

Marriage had not been easy for them,
I remember now,
But I was there the day they first met—
I saw the spark.

I watched them walk in the day they got engaged,
The wide and confident smiles.
I knew without being told.

And I look at the photos fifteen years later
And I wonder what happened
To their relationship, to our friendship.

So much broken.

Lashes

When this person lashes out
In bitterness
And I understand it;

And this person lashes out
In pain
And I understand it;

And this person lashes out
In anger
And I understand it;

At some point, I’m no longer sure
If I am adding my lashes to theirs
Or bearing the brunt of the scourging myself.

Frozen Apples

As I looked for frozen stock
After the two jars spoiled in the fridge
(Or maybe they didn’t, but I didn’t trust them),
I came across two bags of apples,
Ready for pies,
And I thought that would be tasty,
So I pulled them out to thaw.

There they sit on the counter,
A patient reminder of the ways
I didn’t measure up today.

They will be there tomorrow
When I wake up.

Limping Along

I think I just want to spend some time
Being sad.

I hear the sorrows of friends,
And think of the ways I fail,
And my eyes burn.

A smoking match he will not put out.

I hold on to the hope
That I, too, will flame up again.

Eugenides

I read these books aloud for hours
As we all listen, enthralled,
To the escapades of the Thief.

The surprises in the narrative;
The incredible, brilliant double meanings;
The majesty of the majesties.

Once, Eugenides cries to the gods
For answers: why did you betray me
To those who do not follow you?

And the answer, shocking: did we?
Would you take back what you lost
To lose what you have gained?

You could have lost much more.
Be content.

Let Down

After a weekend of beauty
And connection
And joy,

Regular life proves hard to
Re-enter.
Tiredness doesn’t help.

I miss my new friends
And I hope they are
Well.

Regression

Months ago, Caleb went 36 hours
Without soiling his diaper.
I was very pleased.

Since the holidays, he has regressed,
And I am again responsible for changing
Stinkiness. I don’t like it.

Today, having wrestled him down
And wiped and wiped him,
He squirmed away and sat up.

And promptly peed all over my bed.
He’s never done that before.

Five sons later, I still don’t have this gig down.

Choose

One cannot weep for the entire world; it is beyond human strength. One must choose.

My friend chooses high school students.
We choose the ones who come through our door.

And we serve a Savior who wept with Mary and Martha,
And whose Spirit groans on our behalf,
A God who enters in to the grief of the one and the many.

It is beyond human strength to weep for the entire world.
Thank God he has the strength.
Thank God he doesn’t choose.

Home

Your home is one place on earth where my whole family can be happy together.

The five hours passed too quickly.
I wished them multiplied.
And at the end of the whirlwind of

Immersion

Into family, real and created,
My friends, new and old,

Left.

Very Rich

To stand in a room and know the people:

Who is grieving a loss of a loved one,
An unrequited love,
A wish for a wife,
An adoption gone wrong,
A job unpleasant (or nonexistent);

To know the marriages struggling
Or broken,
The bodies aching or healing or ill,
The friendships close or strained:
It’s a rich experience
Of being in community.

Pleased

My friend came to tell me:
“Someone just asked if I
Was Amy Lykosh,
And when I said that no,
That I was Jessie Ray,
She said that she had
Probably heard of me, too,
And the whole thing made me
So happy, I can hardly stand it.”

New Experience

As I entered the space,
I had people greet me,
One after the next,
Until it felt like I was
The most popular ever,
Which I have never felt
Before.

Isolated

When you told me of your years of isolation,
I felt a wave crashing over,
As that is not the first time I’ve heard that,
And I have friends with the pain and self-loathing
Still happening now,
Not as something in the past.

And to cry for you for those years is nothing,
And to say that I am sorry is nothing,
And to wish for you life and hope and joy,
While true, is also nothing.

I wish I had more than tears and words and wishes.

Beyond Measure Astonished

And were beyond measure astonished, saying, He hath done all things well: he maketh both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak.

My friend released his album today.
There was too much love and joy then for me to weep,
But awake alone now, in the dark and quiet house,
I think about the evening and am
Beyond measure astonished.

And I cry a little because when I heard
“Mourning House,” I could see my friend
Weeping in my chair for the pain that he has held.
And I know that the same week, he wrote that song,
And that I then knew he would be okay if he could tell himself
The truth.

And I cry a little because I could watch
My friend’s family wipe their tears,
And my friend’s friends leap for joy,
And my friend’s community celebrate
The work of God in our midst.

And I think about the ways that Jesus continues to make
The deaf to hear and the dumb to speak,
And, indeed, to sing, as the night is
Swallowed up by a stronger light …
I remain beyond all measure
Astonished.

Common Courtesy

I have not done a good job teaching
Common courtesy.
I am pretty sure that I always say
Please and thank you, but
I am pretty sure that the boys do not.

So I was gratified to hear
That when their dirtied dishes were gathered,
They said thank you, unprompted.

I can be thankful for small wins.

The Son of Man Is Come—

—To seek and save that which was lost.

—Not to be ministered unto, but to minister,
And to give his life as a ransom for many.

And after these sweeping, beautiful statements
About the purpose of the Son of Man,
Comes the practical.

The Son of man is come eating and drinking.

Hospitality, anyone?

God Planned It

I thought I had a plan for my day.
I liked it.
Visit one, visit two, visit three.

Visit one went off perfectly.
We wished it could last longer.
But off we went to visit two
Only to have that

Cancelled.

How disappointed my plans
Changed.

But then a long-time friend,
In such different circles as to feel
Long-lost, unexpectedly came down,
As I’d asked her to for months.

And visit three had an extra friend join in.

I thought I had a plan for my day.
I liked it.
It ended up different,
But perfect.

Good Samaritan

In America, the story of
The Good Samaritan
Is not difficult to understand.
The Samaritan helps the hurt man.
He gives. Go and do likewise.
Be the hero.

In Tanzania, the story of
The Good Samaritan
Is not difficult to understand.
The hurt man needs the Samaritan.
He receives. Allow another to be your neighbor.
Welcome the hero.

The Downside of Google

An author learned to compost.
He didn’t Google how.
His friend came and taught it,

Along with a beautiful meditation
On how God takes all the stuff of our lives,
Even the slippery and rubbishy bits,
And stirs them about and turns them into
New life.

I have always rejoiced at the ease
Of research these days,
And had not considered
The loss of connection
When all answers are as close
As a keyboard.

Perhaps I can think more creatively
About learning from people;
Perhaps I can consider new ways
To connect.

Trustworthy

My senior year of high school,
I often stayed out until midnight or one
On a school night, cheering for
The boy I liked as he played indoor soccer
Into the wee hours.

I wonder sometimes now how my parents
Trusted me,

But I was entirely trustworthy,
And I look back on that year
Fondly,
With no regrets.

Entertaining Angels

Bo came to us from the airport
Early in the New Year.
We walked him to campus
To show where he’d study,
And he slipped on a small patch of ice.
Of course: Thailand has no such
Sidewalk treachery.

His father had been a gambler
And a drunk, but his life transformed
When he met Jesus.
Bo had some questions.
We answered them as best we could.
He, too, met the Savior.

I have since wondered:
Who greets the international students
At the airport?
Who greets the refugees?

I hope that there are some doing so
In the name of Christ.

Doing Well

When my friend asked me
What my emotional baseline was,
And I said I was about an eight out of ten,
I lied.
I’m actually probably higher than that,
But I didn’t want to brag.

In the midst of family and friends
Dealing with real challenges,
It feels uncharitable to be doing so well.

But maybe there is a place for me, too.

There Is Pain

None of us do it all right.
Being led by the Spirit
Doesn’t make us perfect.

And even if we managed it,
Those around us wouldn’t.
And so we have pain.

Narratives of Self

It takes little to change
How I view myself.

Sometimes I think of myself
As kind and compassionate,
Competent and nurturing,
Efficient and effective.

It takes little to shake that,
To change to unkind and foolish,
Meddling and impotent.

Perhaps I need less reliance
On these self-imposed narratives,
And rest instead on truth.

With the rest of the church, we are
Blessed with every spiritual blessing,
Chosen before the foundation of the world,
Holy and blameless before him in love,
Predestined for adoption,
Redeemed through his blood,
Forgiven of trespasses,
To the praise of his glory,
Sealed with the promised Holy Spirit.

Terror of Grace

As much as I long for perfection,
It eludes me.

And when I find myself
Again in need
Of forgiveness, or comfort,
Or reassurance that I am lovable,

I face the terror of grace anew.

I can do nothing to earn
Forgiveness,
Comfort,
Love.

In truth, I must receive
Without self-abuse.

And go forward
To life.

Margarita Cheesecake

Phil and a friend came up with the idea
For a margarita cheesecake.
They thought this brilliant.

When our freezer broke, we managed
To stuff everything into a smaller one
But a box of ribs. Those we gave to our friend.

To celebrate four sisters home together,
They had us over for ribs with
Mashed potatoes and green beans,

All superb. And the delicious finale,
A margarita cheesecake with a
Pretzel crumb crust and a lime top.

We dined with four sisters,
The oldest just two decades.
We laughed and we talked
Of things great and small.

Disbelief

A child came to visit with his dad.
He arrived after dark.
The moon hadn’t risen yet.

Dad, is this for real?
Or am I dreaming?
Do all those stars really exist?

They had lived in a city three years.
Dad was happy his son saw the sky,
And sad that this was his first time.

Mutual Glory

For Christmas this year, unexpectedly
We got a gift card to our grocery store.

This spoke to me, on a deep level,
That there will be provision.

For Christmas this year, unexpectedly
We put together a gift box for a friend.

This spoke to him, on a deep level,
That there will be love and community.

When the Holy Spirit guides gift-giving,
What can we do but receive with joy?

Lounging

Joe, sitting up in his own bed,
Under his own blankets and with his own sheets,
Said:

Wouldn’t it be fun to spend the whole day
In bed, reading and eating and everything?

Joe slept on his own mattress for the first time
Two nights ago.

I am glad he finds it so gratifying.

Purging

As a detail person,
It bothers me to know that
A room looks clean but has
A wardrobe of clothes, only
Some of which are wanted.
I want the wardrobe perfectly
Purged of anything unused.

Today I looked at each piece
Of my clothing and tried on most.
I rediscovered a few treasures,
Gave away some, and trashed many.

My dresser drawers again open easily,
And my wardrobe looks great!

But the rest of the house
Needs attention now.
Now I must try to be
A big picture person.

Twenty Today

You, who share a birthday with our son,
Are twenty today.
We rejoice in the gift that you are—

For your funny expressions,
For your “best sister”-hood,
For your sense of humor,
For your intelligence
And your compliments and your beauty
And your love of Jesus—

Even while we recognize that none of these
Really touch on the essence of you,
Which is too luminous to be so easily summed.

Sleep Aid

Months ago, Joe gave Phil his stuffed dog
Sam to sleep with.
Grandma is visiting,
And Joe gave her his stuffed bear
Jake to sleep with.

Almost every night, I pray for Joe’s sleep,
That it will be sweet and not scary.
Almost every night, Joe joins us in bed.
In the morning, he doesn’t talk about why,
But I suspect his sleep is not always sweet.

This son, for whom sleep is not a joy,
Did his part to make sure that it could be a joy
For others.

This is not quite laying down one’s life for a friend,
But a pretty close 6-year-old approximation.

Connotation

When you started the dishes after dinner,
It was more than just helpful.
It said: I am part of this family.
I will come often enough
That a visit will not feel like something
To grasp fiercely,
But something of comfort and joy.

Motorcyclist

I was driving the Land Cruiser,
And wanted to change lanes.
I watch my rear view mirrors,
And had seen no one.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Nothing.

But rather than changing lanes
That time, I checked again.
And yet a third time.

And the third time, there was a
Motorcyclist,
No longer in my blindspot.
I have no idea where he came from.

There was no rational reason
For me to have looked three times.
I don't think I ever have again,
Before or since.

But had I not, my life would have been
Very different.

Middle School Basketball

Shaquille O’neal could dunk
At thirteen.
He was six and a half feet tall.

My Jadon is almost thirteen.
He is growing well,
Almost up to my shoulders.
He’ll reach five feet soon.

Imagine Jadon guarding Shaq.
As my friend said,
Oh, the humanity.

Tap Into It

I know that good art
Comes out of deep emotion.
I don’t like that, usually.
Deep emotion is messy,
And I would prefer to push it

Away.

Shift

Relationships change.
We grieve the shift.

And sometimes we wonder
What is right to hold on to,
What is right to let go.

We ask for wisdom.
That’s a prayer that gets
Answered.

A Normal Day

Introduced a friend to a friend, saying,
“This is my soul sister here.”
Response one: High praise indeed.
Response two: I am so honored!

Checked on friend. Response: thank you!

Spoke of party. Response:
We’ll skip prior plans to come.

Request: bread recipe, please; so yummy.

Sent email. Response: awesome.

Sent email. Response: beautiful.

Sent text. Response: so kind.

Called family. Response: enjoyed it, thank you.

Sent invite. Response: so excited, so amazed.

Sent text. Response: so honored you will cheer with me.

Received email: want to visit.

Received text: want to visit.

Received email: invite me, even if I can’t come!

Received text: you make me laugh.

Received lengthy email: information I wished for.

My word for the year was
Affirmation.

Wouldn’t anyone be ethereally happy
With a life like this.

Deeper

David loved Jonathan,
With weeping and words
That I cannot imagine
Any modern man speaking.

I rail again against the poverty
Of our relationships.

Thwarted

Caleb didn’t get his way.
He howled.
I put him on the bed.
He howled.

Some time later,
He was quiet.
I walked in to find
Him standing behind the door,
Facing the wall.

When he saw me,
He howled again.

My son, none of us
Get our own way
All the time.

And if we did, we’d be
Insufferable.

Receive this training,
Unpleasant though it may be.

Long

We had an open house
And invited people to come
Any time during a ten hour stretch.
We had guests, in the end, for
Nine and a half,
And the longest two stayed
About eight.

My friend said, long ago,
That Americans throw
Three hour parties.

If we ever have a three hour party again,
I think I will feel like
A non-event!

But with a canvas of almost ten,
There is time to connect
With almost all who come.

Correction

A friend said,
“Sometimes when I speak,
The other person seems to be listening
Solely to correct me.”

This can’t be good for relationship.

Applause

Caleb drank from a guest’s glass,
Then waved both arms in the air,
Enthusiastically.
His brothers did the same.
Caleb laughed, and brothers laughed,
And all arms waved again,
Until the room rang with the laughter
Of five sons and guest.

I remain torn, though,
On good parenting in that situation.
Enjoy the camaraderie and ebullience?
Or gently correct for showing off?
What is more important?
The mirth or the self-centeredness?

No Idea

At 18, I listened to Celine Dion
Belt out, “Don’t want to live
All by myself anymore,”
And I confessed to my Mom that
I felt that.

“Oh, whatever,” she said,

Which may seem ungracious,
But was a bracing reminder
That my sentiment was
Premature.

I have friends now
Who have lived that song
For a decade.
For two.

I felt what they felt for a single day
And felt defeated.

I, too, say to my young self,
“Oh, whatever.
You have
No
Idea.”

In Translation

Poetry in translation
Is notoriously inaccurate.
How could something of
Rhyme and rhythm
Ambiguity and consonance
Ever be recaptured beyond a shadow?

How much is lost.

And yet.

I will not learn Italian,
Yet I have walked with Dante.

I will not learn Greek,
Yet I have triumphed with Odysseus.

How much is gained.

Though He Slay Me

When last I prayed in earnest,
I wondered if I might die,
The physical presence
Of the Holy Spirit
Was so intense.

Like I was a straw, trying to
Channel
An outpouring of a fire hose.
Impossible.

My friend said, though,
That next time, I will remember
That I didn’t die,
And be at peace
With the intensity.

It is not my imperfection
That I am but a straw.

Fresh Insight

I know that when my house seems
An absolute disaster
Just hours before a party,
To be prepared for glory,
As the greater opposition
Foreshadows the greater joy.

I had never connected that, though,
With prayer.

A friend said:
When I go down to pray,
And feel nothing,
I wonder what is actually happening
In the heavenlies.

The lack of felt response
Might show
That those prayers are the most needed
And the most powerful.