Vasovagal Syncope

I wanted to be a nurse
Until I fainted when I lost a tooth.
That tiny drop of blood on my gums
Did me in.

In high school, I was having blood drawn
And woke up on the floor. Irate, the nurse said,
“Why didn’t you tell me you would faint?”
I didn’t know.
Since then, I always make sure I’m prone around needles.

I gave blood once in college.
I had thought that a nurse would siphon off
The quantity in a quick procedure.
No. Twenty minutes of gradual pulsing my hand
I managed to lie there, lifeblood flowing out,
But I left white, in shock, and never did that again.

(For years I kept my weight just under the limit
So I would have no guilt. Donation?
Impossible! Sorry, don’t weigh enough.)

This fainting thing frustrated me, though.
I handle farm and family traumas with
Presence of mind, mopping up blood,
Examining wounds to see the extent of the damage.

I felt betrayed that my self-control vanishes
When the needle punctures my skin.

Recently I learned that this is called
Vasovagal syncope. It is, apparently, genetic.
I’ve passed it to at least one son, who has
Fainted twice (thus far).

It’s the body’s protest against something it dislikes.
I will never be perfect at giving blood,
But there’s nothing I can do about it.
One less failure to fret over.
I act unconsciously.

Missing Indigo

I learned the colors of the rainbow:
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.

Later, I learned that artists
Call purple “violet” and insert

Indigo between violet and blue.
I have crystals in my window.

Every sunny morn I check the
Rainbows on the wall to see if I can see

The elusive indigo. I haven’t yet.
But I don’t mind examining the slash of light.

Home Burial

We buried Gracie Lou
On a beautiful day.
Perfect weather.
Both families present
Entirely.

Walking down the slope to the grave
I exclaimed, “It’s so beautiful!”
Because it was: the colorful clothes
Juxtaposed with blue sky and green growth.

My Mom shot me a stricken look then,
But I wasn’t trying to be frivolous.
It was just achingly beautiful.

It was beautiful that the photographer showed
When he did, guided not by my faulty directions
But by a random man he stopped on the side of the road
Who didn’t direct him correctly, either,
But God did, and he arrived just in time.

I look at his photos and am struck with
How beautiful. Grief ravaged our faces:
Dad’s stern look, my isolation, Natalia’s exhaustion.
Tears on my sister’s face.

But also roses, also embrace, also color
And Scripture, and real handkerchiefs.
It was a beautiful service.
I think more people would have photographers
At funerals if they knew how beautiful
The photos would be.

And when we ate our formal dinner,
On a patio of bricks surrounded by flower gardens,
The woman of the house said later,
“This place was suffused with a special light.”

And so the day ended with beauty,
And family, and food, and laughter.

We grieve, but not as others who have no hope.
Thanks be to God.

Sheep Among Wolves

When Jesus sent out his disciples,
He told them they were like
Sheep among wolves, one of those
Ubiquitous Christian statements
That has ceased to have meaning.

Stop. This terrifies me.
Wolves can stand six feet on hind legs.
They travel in packs, armed with
Teeth, claw, and cunning.
They decimate flocks.

And the Good Shepherd, known for
Green pastures and quiet waters,
Sends out his sheep into
The world of wolves.

What?

And then, to make things even more
Confusing, they were told to be
Shrewd as serpents and harmless as doves.

I can do harmless as doves. How precious.
But also be shrewd as the personification of Satan?
And somehow the combination shrewd-
Harmless helps the sheep from the
Ravening predators?

The closer I look at this instruction,
The more I think I’d prefer to stay home.

Inhospitable?

My Grandpa visited two decades ago.
I was getting myself a snack in the kitchen
When he joined me. “I’m thirsty.”

“We have glasses in the cupboard there.
Milk in the refrigerator, and water from the tap.
Help yourself!” Big smile and quick exit.

Was that inhospitable? (A cup of cold water
In my name and all that.) Or simply allowing
An able-bodied man to help himself?

Today's Prayer

Bridal showers, baby showers,
Parties known for presents
And desultory small talk.

My prayer today was for
Connection, the presence of
The Spirit, that we would leave
Thanks giving, encouraged.

Answered. Amen.

Relationship, Not Rules

Since the Enlightenment,
We’ve known the world follows laws.
Gravity works.

We read these laws into the Bible.
No women teachers, no exceptions.
An exception would break the law,
And that would seem to make God unjust.

It’s hard to imagine a culture without this
Perspective. It’s so obvious!

But some cultures have less reliance
On rules, and more on relationship.
What if, instead of laws without exception,
These instructions were generally true,
But allowed for some move of the Spirit?
The relationship takes precedence.

Most women don’t teach.
But maybe some should.