Close to Home

even in the dark

Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery. 

- Wendell Berry (Hannah Coulter)

 

My house is trashed, but our bags are finally (nearly) packed - two skirts for the conference, a dress for the funeral. 

Memory Eternal, Ray!  God, give rest to the soul of Your servant who, this morning,  has fallen asleep.

And dear Beth and Jared, we are coming! The many of us who love you are gathering, traveling to where you are to share in your grief. 

 Love covers a multitude of transgressions and sometimes hard to swallow flaws. All steeped in our imperfections we show up "as is" to weep with those who weep, experiencing a merciful foretaste of Heaven in our need for one another - in our comforting and being comforted. 

Yes, I'll be gone a little while. Please keep the Johnsons in your prayers.

Peace, courage and love, love, love to you! 

 

struck free and holy

 

 

stand by me

 

 

A Name for All

by HART CRANE

Moonmoth and grasshopper that flee our page

And still wing on, untarnished of the name

We pinion to your bodies to assuage

Our envy of your freedom—we must maim

 

Because we are usurpers, and chagrined—

And take the wing and scar it in the hand.

Names we have, even, to clap on the wind;

But we must die, as you, to understand.

 

I dreamed that all men dropped their names, and sang

As only they can praise, who build their days

With fin and hoof, with wing and sweetened fang

Struck free and holy in one Name always.

 

Yesterday, I hit Kohls, Target and Staples.  Make forty copies of this, my to-do list instructed. Buy travel-sized toiletries.  

This afternoon, its been:

Return these e-mails 

RSVP to those parties

Wash my long dark denim skirt

On Friday I'm flying to Boston for a Women's Retreat. My husband and kids will go on ahead to my in-laws for Spring Break. I've been scurrying, hyped up on black coffee, packing for all of us.

Just when I'd sorted through the piles of dark clothes to be washed (two pairs of jeans and three shirts should be enough for each of them), I received a voicemail from my friend Beth's husband. You know, Beth, with the beautiful children, the beautiful blog reflections - the Beth I went to college with, lived with for five years in Chicago - the Beth who stood by me, holding me firmly by the shoulder when I thought I'd die giving birth to my youngest son, Benjamin. Beth, Benjamin's godmother. She is, for all intents and purposes, a full-fledged member of our family. And she is, as her husband's message conveyed, spending her afternoon saying goodbye to her father. 

I've had my cell phone in my pocket, awaiting an update - still physically taking care of business but mentally engaged in an attempt to will my emotional presence, my support of her, past the miles that separate us and into the quiet of the excruciatingly profound moments currently encompassing my dear friend, and her mother, her sister.  While I'd moved about, planning ahead, the soul of a kind and generous man approached the curtain dividing this life from the next. This is me pausing, standing still, out of respect for the magnitude of that impending passage. Lord have mercy. 

Bound together as we are, both joy and grief reverberate, as they should, through the whole of us. Love means choosing willingly, purposefully, to absorb the impact. 

 

a spirit of chastity, humility, patience and love

 

 

 

 

 

* " So how are you doing?"  asked (so sincerely) my homeschooling confidante with four children six years old and under - a hero in my eyes who spends her long days meeting her family's many needs and her evenings at the hospital with her dying father.

 

* "Your book brought me comfort," a mother wrote to me - a brave, brave  mother - a mother who's endured a whole heck of alot - more than I have.

 

* "Mom, you're snuggly," my nine-year-old told me yesterday. "I see other moms and just can't imagine cuddling them."

 

* I received a text earlier that said "love u". It made my morning. 

 

* My brother submitted the following to our parish's lenten recipe e-mail exchange:

Peanut Butter Sandwich

2 slices bread (white or wheat)
3 tbl peanut butter (smooth or crunchy)

Spread peanut butter evenly over one slice of bread with butter knife. Add second slice of bread. (Also good with jelly, jam, marmalade, or preserves.)

so that made me smile.

 

* Sixteen years ago today, I read a Walt Whitman poem at that same brother's wedding. I got a sister whom I cherish more and more all the time out of that deal.

 

* My youngest child would not hear of me leaving the house this morning without at least a green necklace on.  She got wind of some disturbing rumors about random pinching and was horrified. I'm glad she's got my back.

 

* Tonight is book club. My favorite.

 

* It is warm enough today to wear my femine white spring jacket instead of my coffee stained brown down coat.

 

* Speaking of coffee,  I  just drank some with a neighbor while our kids played.

 

* Our sidewalk is covered in chalk drawings.

 

*  I was gifted with wise, caring advice from someone I would consider both a mentor and a friend.

 

My pick from the Lent Bucket was: "List ten things you are thankful for." I thought of twelve blessings (some more soul provoking than others) - a dozen reasons why my life is precious.

 

for we meet by one or the other

 

Choose

BY CARL SANDBURG

   THE single clenched fist lifted and ready,

Or the open asking hand held out and waiting.

                     Choose:

For we meet by one or the other.

 

 That first week of Lent, I was sweet as a lamb. You would have loved me, and my fountain of patience, my heaven colored glasses. Today I'm remembering wistfully that much more pleasant version of my now wolfish, irritated, less than lovable self.  Oh good grief, can I not hang on to anything?

 It's usually just at that moment I'm pretty sure I've overcome the bulk of  my nasties I'm caught off guard by a karate chop to my most vulnerable parts (my thoughts, always my thoughts). Just three nights ago, I was jolted awake by "what-ifs" so violent they left my head ringing, and apparently my nerves frayed because I've taken to growling (grrrrr!) and snapping when what I should be, for everyone's sake, is silent.

Last Saturday, we sang during vespers, "allow me to pass over the battlefield of Lent without sin." Yes, that was telling - a bit of foreshadowing perhaps to prepare me for what was to come? Well, lookie here, despair,  I may be wounded but I'm still fighting! And you know what I'm gonna do with your big old neon taunts about my weakness, foolishness, general unworthiness? I'm going to claim them.

Who needs the Cross? I do. Who needs Mercy? I sure as hell do. Who is just as susceptible  to screwing up, falling flat on her face, forgetting her promises Apostle Peter style, as anyone else in this world?   Me?   Did you answer "me"?   Well, you got it!

And here is where doubt and despondency cannot contain us:   precisely because of my flaws, I come to you open handed - defying pride, logic, self-confidence. Who am I to close my fist in judgement? To shake it in your face while you duck to avoid the redwood protruding from my eyeball? 

Up ahead is our Resurrection!  I extend my asking, waiting, hand to you. Will you walk with me?

only he who sees

 

 

little treasures

 

 Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

The article on the living hell that's become of Japan shared space on my computer screen with an  ad for "Hollywood's New Secret Diet" and tips for finding a haircut that works well with your face shape.  "Ah," I thought, "how very telling."

 It's crazy hard to meditate for  long on the Greater Reality, namely that every one of us is  in the process of dying, without becoming eager for an escape. It's remarkable how the magnitude of our universal vulnerability to any number of tragic scenarios, and of the powerlessness of our resources and accomplishments to combat them, can be so effectively muffled  by You Tube, a bag of  Doritos or a trip to the outlet mall.  

Great Lent is asking of me to gaze upon the terrifying Truth in all its mind blowing wonder without blinking or turning my head, and boy oh boy if that doesn't make me squirm like a bug in the sun under a magnifying glass. It's overwhelming.

In this unnerving state of rawness, however, where theories and grievances melt away (in light of the Light) into irrelevance, the Resurrection emerges as the Everything it truly is.   If I can just hold out - refrain from surrendering to the temptation to find relief from the intensity, of  a Mercy far beyond our comprehension, in empty trivialities - anxiety will loosen its grip on my soul.

I'm not so naive to imagine this struggle to keep my faith in spite of it all won't tear me up, or reveal my ugliness. No, I know by this point it's going to hurt, burn, humble me, demand more from me than I feel capable of giving.    I may very well end up crawling  my way to Pascha, and oh how much more triumphant will that empty tomb be because of my utter desperateness for it - my keen realization that without it I am lost, all is lost?

For those who choose to see, earth is crammed with heaven. Love triumphs always.

there is no "better place"

 

Everybody wants to change the world, but nobody thinks about changing himself.

—Dostoevsky

 

Most people now are looking for  "a better place," which means that a lot of them will end up in a worse one. I think this is what Nathan learned from his time in the army and the war. He saw a lot of places, and he came home. I think he gave up the idea that there is a better place somewhere else. There is no "better place" than this, not in this world. And it is by the place we've got, and our love for it and our keeping of it, that this world is joined to Heaven.

-from Hannah Coulter (I cannot get enough) by Wendell Berry

 

It is thoughts of the "other place" that most often distract me from all I need to change in me in order to make any kind of eternal difference. Whether I'm pining for a more stimulating existence, assuaging my curiosity on-line, disapproving of decisions being made by "them" or gaping in horror at the tragedies happening "there," the end result is the same: My own growth becomes stalemated.

What's way harder than jumping the gun, all armed with grandiose expectations and passionate convictions, is staying still...and available. And what is Fasting but the chiseling away of  impulses buffering my soul from the inconvenience of turning inward?

Oh Great Lent, with your glaring spotlight aimed directly on all my dingy parts - my prideful, impatient, self-serving, gluttonous, lazy parts - cleanse me. Grant me the stamina, I beg of you, to tune out everything, most especially my own noisy fears and opinions, save for the minute-to-minute quiet directives of the Holy Spirit. Don't let me forget that right here, in this old house, within this neighborhood, within my family, is where you have placed me, and that here contains all the opportunities I need to, by emptying myself, achieve inner peace.

Acquire a peaceful spirit and around you thousands will be saved. - St. Seraphim of Sarov

How am I changing the world? Well, today by playing Wig Out with my daughter, and then praying for guidance in terms of what to say (or not to say), do (or not do) next - by pouring every ounce of effort I can muster into keeping my eyes, at all times, despite the turbulent waves licking my shins, locked in on Christ. 

My soul, my soul, arise! Why are you sleeping? The end is drawing near, and you will be confounded. Awake, then, and be watchful, that Christ our God may spare you, Who is everywhere present and fills all things.
Kontakion, tone 6, Canon of St. Andrew of Crete

 

it's all one piece of work

Oh yes, brothers and sisters, we are members one of another. The difference, beloved, ain't in who is in and who's not, but in who knows it and who don't. Oh, my friends, there ain't no nonmembers, living nor dead nor yet to come. Do you know it? Or do you don't? A man is a member of a woman and a worm. A woman is a member of a man and a mole. Oh, beloved, it's all one piece of work. 

- from Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry

(Yes, I'm counting that quote, that whole entire book, as poetry)

POETRY WEDNESDAY

 

So this is the first and most likely the last time you will find something even remotely crafty on this blog. I don't sew or wield glue guns. I don't ever seem to have the right supplies on hand for glittering or stuffing or painting. All that to say, this little project I created out of masking tape and construction paper was born of a heart aching to make Great Lent a family affair. When my very crafty, very creative, chock full of ideas daughter suggested we make a list of things we want to stop doing during Lent, I said I'd think about it. And later, when I actually did,  I realized this:

 

            

 
 

What I most want to communicate to my kids is that Great Lent is more about what we  add to than what we subtract from our lives.

 

The simplifying of our diets and our avoidance of distracting "noise" are ways to free us from our passions and impulses that we might pray more, repent more, love more, hope more in the Resurrection.

 I do understand that when you're a kid it's hard to get past the hummus and lentils. But my gut reaction, when I see disappointed faces at the dinner table or  hear sighs of "Again?" from my children when told to get ready for another Lenten Church service, is to over explain. I read articles to them, chapters from books about why Lent is so essential for our physical and spiritual well being. I give emotional lectures. If I don't watch it, I could end up trying to force upon them an appreciation garnered only through experience. The struggle is that I love them so, so much, and I want for them so, so badly to know for themselves the miraculous healing available to those who, with but a mustard seed of faith, enter into the Fast - the Bright Sadness. I long for them to, throughout their lives, take Lent very, very seriously. 

 

 But pull back I must. Pray for them I must.  All I have control of is the creating of an environment within our home in which Lent can truly take hold of us - cleanse us. I set the tone, I make the meals, I lead by example. This year, I want our Sabourin Lenten theme to be: "More ...of what really matters." Thus there I found myself in the kitchen taping paper to a plastic pail containing handwritten suggestions for small ways to, throughout Lent, add more of Christ and His compassion to our daily routines.

 

 

So far these suggestions include:

Memorize a verse

Play a game with, or read a book to, a sibling

Do something nice for someone in secret

Read about a saint and tell us about his or her life at dinner

Write a letter to a friend or family member

Lead family prayers

Call great-grandma

Write a thank you note

Make treats for a neighbor

Pray the "Jesus Prayer" 20 times throughout the day

Write down 10 things you are thankful for 

Pray the prayer of St. Ephraim when you get home from school

Do the family Scripture Reading

Give out three compliments

Listen to a podcast on Ancient Faith Radio

Do a chore without being asked

 

Each morning we'll pick one, and then report on our progress in the evenings. My kids are old enough now  to begin absorbing the vitalness of their roles as active members of our immediate family, and of the body of Christ as a whole. Their actions affect mine and vice versa. Our choices impact you, and her, and him, and them. It's all one piece of work. We are certainly going to have to depend on one another to pace ourselves throughout these next several weeks of preparation. "Mama, you're not supposed to yell during Lint," my five-year-old has already had to remind me. They're observing me all the time. Because of that, it's imperative I demonstrate for them via my thoughts, words and deeds how to doggedly keep inching our way forward (don't make me admit how often I have to apologize during any given day)  toward salvation, regardless of how many times we stumble.   

Less of me and my obsession with self-indulgence, with my own all consuming lusts, equals more of Christ - more time, more energy, more determination to Love God, and you - more peace, more chances for my darlings, my sons and daughters, to indeed experience Christ (Pascha!), through me, and be transformed by the Mystery of His mercy.

take from me the spirit of sloth, despair, lust of power and idle talk

First of all, please forgive me if  I have in any way, shape or form ever hurt or offended you.

Great Lent is upon us. I'm entering into it with much relief, fear and trembling. 

 My mother sent me the following prayer from Prayers by the Lake by St. Nicolai Velimirovic. I  too long for my mind to jettison this world, to blow away my worries and quell my passions. I too want true hope, and to fast joyously.

There's no way I could do this without you.  My salvation is all wrapped up in you. It is absolutely essential we embark on this journey together, one day, prayer, service, act of love at a time.

What better way to begin than with the promise gifted to us throughout Forgiveness Vespers still echoing in my ears?

God forgives. God forgives. God forgives.

 

XLI

 With fasting I gladden my hope in You, my Lord, Who are to come again.

 Fasting hastens my preparation for Your coming, the sole expectation of my days and nights.

 Fasting makes my body thinner, so that what remains can more easily shine with the spirit.

 While waiting for You, I wish neither to nourish myself with blood nor to take life--so that the animals may sense the joy of my expectation.

 But truly, abstaining from food will not save me. Even if I were to eat only the sand from the lake, You would not come to me, unless the fasting penetrated deeper into my soul.

 I have come to know through my prayer, that bodily fasting is more a symbol of true fasting, very beneficial for someone who has only just begun to hope in You, and nevertheless very difficult for someone who merely practices it.

 Therefore I have brought fasting into my soul to purge her of many impudent fiancé's and to prepare her for You like a virgin.

 And I have brought fasting into my mind, to expel from it all daydreams about worldly matters and to demolish all the air castles, fabricated from those daydreams.

 I have brought fasting into my mind, so that it might jettison the world and prepare to receive Your Wisdom.

 And I have brought fasting into my heart, so that by means of it my heart might quell all passions and worldly selfishness.

 I have brought fasting into my heart, so that heavenly peace might ineffably reign over my heart, when Your stormy Spirit encounters it.

 I prescribe fasting for my tongue, to break itself of the habit of idle chatter and to speak reservedly only those words that clear the way for You to come.

 And I have imposed fasting on my worries so that it may blow them all away before itself like the wind that blows away the mist, lest they stand like dense fog between me and You, and lest they turn my gaze back to the world.

 And fasting has brought into my soul tranquility in the face of uncreated and created realms, and humility towards men and creatures. And it has instilled in me courage, the likes of which I never knew when I was armed with every sort of worldly weapon.

 What was my hope before I began to fast except merely another story told by others, which passed from mouth to mouth?

 The story told by others about salvation through prayer and fasting became my own.

 False fasting accompanies false hope, just as no fasting accompanies hopelessness.

 But just as a wheel follows behind a wheel, so true fasting follows true hope.

Help me to fast joyfully and to hope joyously, for You, my Most Joyful Feast, are drawing near to me with Your radiant smile.

 

Express Yourself

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 With my oldest only one year away from teenagedom, I'm on high alert for  edifying, quality, non-cheesy resources designed to help my kids stay focused (amongst all the usual distractions) on their faith. This week, I received in the mail a copy of the brand new pan-Christian writing magazine, geared for 13 to 17 year olds, Aletheia (meaning "Truth" in Greek).  When I was finally able to pry it from my daughter's hands, I opened the front cover and with giddy approval read this letter from the editor:

 We are excited and blessed to offer Christian teens a healthy platform in which to express themselves literarily and artistically, especially in a culture that so definitively shapes and saturates the teen worldview with unhealthy imagery and values.  Aletheia Writing Magazine believes in the power of stories to nurture, teach, enlighten and strengthen Christian truth and values - whether more commonly in everyday situations or more fantastically in other worlds; whether to highlight a virtue or direct one's gaze to the love and mystery of the ineffable Kingdom.

 

Aletheia Writing Magazine offers readers a variety of unique stories and poems, written by passionate, talented young Christians, as well as work from gifted artists and photographers.  In addition, each issue offers some unique features: a Writer's Challenge, the Featured Contributor, a book review, Glory to God for the Beauty of Nature, Ancient Ink, and a contribution from the magazine itself called Aletheia's Offering.

 Um, so cool, right?! Twenty years ago, I would have loved to have had access to a safe and respectable venue for expression, where my ponderings as a teenager trying to figure out how to apply my faith to circumstances and pressures unique to my generation were taken seriously.

Oh, and speaking of the editor, Nicholas Muzekari, check out his bio:

 

Nicholas Muzekari

 

   I am the proud father of three homeschooled children in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, and have been writing and creating artwork for as long as I can remember. 

   After receiving a BA degree in History from Temple University in 2003, I earned a Writing for Magazines Diploma from The Institute of Children's Literature in Connecticut.  During that time, I worked as an advisor, helping youth in crisis. 

   After receiving my Writing Diploma, I was blessed to work with published authors and editors in the Orthodox Christian picture book genre, which further shaped my craft and helped me grow substantially as a writer.  

   In addition to writing and artistic proficiencies, the Lord has also blessed me with graphic design skills.  

   Now I have put all of my gifts and experience together to create Aletheia Writing Magazine. It is my sincere prayer and hope that it grows to become a wonderful resource and opportunity for young Christians who love to read, write, and create artwork. 

Well, bless his heart for pouring all his education, experience and talents into the nurturing of our young people's souls, and creativity. As a parent of very expressive adolescents, I  am extremely grateful! Nicholas and his wife, Stephanie, have thus far been marketing their Aletheia Writing Magazine primarily by word of mouth. Please visit their website, and share that website with others! And by all means, gift your family, your godchildren, your grandchildren, nieces and nephews with a SUBSCRIPTION. 

 The short stories, poetry and illustrations are impressively fantastic. What a joy to see a desire for art and beauty emanating from the hearts of our youth. May we do everything possible to encourage and appreciate their efforts. 

somewhere ahead I see you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

North of Childhood

BY JONATHAN GALASSI

Somewhere ahead I see you

watching something out your window,

what I don’t know. You’re tall,

not on your tiptoes, green,

no longer yellow,

no longer little, little one,

but the changeless changing

seasons are still with us.

Summer’s back,

so beautiful it always reeks of ending,

and now its breeze is stirring

in your room commanding the lawn,

trying to wake you to say the day is wasting,

but you’re north of childhood now and out of here,   

and I’ve gone south.

 

 When you're eager to visit with old friends who all happen to be in the same general area at the same time but there are thirteen children between you and it's too cold and icy for them to play outside, you improvise. Thus we found ourselves last Saturday at Bellaboos, a veritable utopia for kids ten-years-old and under, catching up  the best we could amidst the deafening sound of many children being children, and the occasional raucous "Birthday Parade."  Though by the end of that afternoon my head was pounding, I enjoyed very much observing my youngest three interacting with the young sons and daughters of our dear friends, the Johnsons and Kingerys. It did my heart good to see them laughing, pretending, bonding together.

 My oldest, who is twelve, was somewhat horrified by the thought of devoting a good part of his weekend to being shut up in a glorified kiddie play land. He hung out instead with his understanding grandparents (thanks, mom and dad). I know my oldest daughter too is on the verge of leaving behind completely her dwindling interest in make believe, and face painting, so I soaked it up - her fleeting unselfconscious delight in childishness, silliness, her own vibrant imagination.

"What will become of them," I can't help but wonder sometimes, though I know I shouldn't. I've no business messing with fire, with dwelling on potential future scenarios. I'm a card-carrying black belt in worrying, capable of, in about five seconds flat, becoming blind to all my blessings by entertaining anxious thoughts.  Yes, it's true, eventually all four of my kids will have to face with eyes wide open the oft less than rosy realities of adulthood; my pre-teen boy has already lost some of his blissfully naive shimmer. They will hurt, and be hurt, as I have. They will shoot and miss, love and lose, learn over and over again the hard way. And, Lord willing, I will be here for them, praying for the wisdom to know when to speak and when to just listen.

Today, however, they are hungry for an after school snack. They are all dwelling under my roof and, despite some sniffling and coughing, are healthy and happy. Currently, I have control over nothing, but the absorbing of that precious fact, and the tone of my voice, the decision to be present.  Today, I am thankful to be so needed.