Anger is my intimate
Companion
Eyes me over soup
Shouts instructions
As I mow the lawn
He has the worn face
Of a college professor
The demeanor of a silent
Partner
In what?
You are right to ask
Why is he here?
Oh, I will blink,
As I think how to phrase this…
He helps me to articulate
Why I am so dependent on
His wife, Forgiveness,
For everything
Don’t miss the pain
Wrestle it like a bear
Don’t miss the scenes
I can see them in my head
Don’t miss the humiliation
Worse things have come
To light
Don’t miss the sorrow
It is my silent twin
Don’t miss the girl
I used to be
Go to her and tell her
It’s not your fault
It’s not your fault
It’s not your fault
My iPhone went quiet. Took it to at&t
No quick fix. So I went to Target and bought this wonderful plug-in speaker
We tried it out at the pool–
Dance party
Grace.
My thanks to Sal and Verrochio…
There is famous
And there is crazy
There is infamous
And obscure
There are Germans
And all the other people
With immaculate public transportation
And then there is the gaze of the Almighty
So often obscured by
The cardboard ads for beer
But unwavering in His vision
Of us
To the end of love.
I am in a children’s museum feeling inadequate because I know that I had one primary goal in life: be a good mom. Even before I had kids I wanted to be a good mom in Sunday school, youth group, to my 50 year old Iranian student–good mom.
I will feel my inadequacy in my bones
It is not our fault we are deceived by predators.
It is our fault if we don’t provide the remedy.
The truth sets us free…
She had been out of radio contact for awhile so I was glad when she called
She was in the hospital for all the usual stuff
I worry about the baby.
Give her my usual (inadequate) pep talks
Pray.
There are so many kinds of prayer–which we must remember, means talking to God.
There is easy prayer
Otherwise known as grace
There is harder prayer
Which involves some level of suspense
Like when will the baby or rain
Come?
And then there is the prayer you pray for a child lost at sea.
This prayer is only possible with miracles and men rising from the dead
It starts with a profession of faith
Something like…no one could do this but You
Or
You are a God of miracles…
Or (I admit)
God I have no idea whatsoever how you could do this but You can, only you can..
This last prayer is always a life and death matter
J is a good story teller. He reads books without always sticking to the script.
Sometimes this means funny voices and sometimes it means meticulously adding extra drawings of a 4 year old’s favorite character.
Tonight he transposed “dizzy” to “benign positional vertigo”
He makes me laugh, but may also help the kid with his MCATs
The connection is not good
His speech is blurry
I ask the usual questions
About job and schedule
what are your plans for the future?
He says he may join the army
since the %#*^#%^
what?
I ask
What?
could you say that again?
Knowing he is standing at a pay
Phone
Miles away from me
When S was little she loved Elmo. We did not get PBS on tv so we watched DVDs. I always associate Elmo with her babyhood.
The first time someone talked about her being “damaged goods” because she was a sexual assault survivor I was knocked back. In a country where women are paid and applauded for nudity, a little girl’s non-consensual abuse would make her “damaged goods?!”
Children are hurt, wounded, violated, and robbed by sexual abuse
But they are not damaged goods. Ever.
What damages us all most is when we hand the abuse of children over to the wolves and refuse to speak out and fight for the dignity and safety of every little girl who once loved Elmo.
Some people are healing listeners. They help me just by reading this, abiding with my quixotic ways..
But there are others who astound me
They hear my story and do not grieve
They only tell me what I should do
And those people?
Always wrong…
Listening skills and empathy–dangerous compassion
Carrying Light 