Visitation

photo by Kris

                                            Visitation

                                    An ordinary Mass.
                                   I kneel, eyes closed
                                   and there is your Face.

                                        I know it's you.
                                   I feel your otherness,
                                           deepness.

                                     Your eyes are closed,
                                         no sharp features.
                                 I think later; poor, peasant face.

                                  You are right with me
                                another world around us.
                                  The flock stands and I
                                         want to stay.

                                I obey, up and you are gone.
                                   something to regret always.

dancing in the Light....

Dance-Matisse

Behind the altar of our humble church are floor to ceiling windows and outside those windows that is a tall rock garden with a waterfall.I have witnessed a butterfly land there one hot August day; the day of a friend's funeral.Her funeral program had a butterfly on the cover.An occasional squirrel will scramble to the top to eat a nut of some kind.Neighbors.

Today, the water was beautiful, glittering and frozen solid.It is the closest we Georgians will get to frozen ponds.The psalm for today is perfect for what I am feeling:"You will draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation."

I have written before about the young man who attends our church when he can.He, who helped me become aware that my mother had been with me in Australia by means of a butterfly visit.

After mass, he asked this question:"Do you have a deceased sister?" "Yes," I said."Did she die of something to do with the liver ?" "Yes."Did her life involve a cane?""Yes,"I said, stunned.

Before I continue, I need to tell you that I adored my older sister, my only sibling, four years senior.Also, that we rarely got along.I often wondered why and then found the answer in a novel, of all things, and it rang true.When there is little nurturing or love to be had, siblings become competitors.The best time was after she married, left our 8x10 bedroom and became my confidante.I treasured her wisdom and her openness to all my foolishness.She brought a brother-in-law and nieces into my life that I love deeply.So there was good times, too few.I prayed about the lost years  in a chapel once and heard this:"You will get that time back."I don't know what that means, I don't have to.

A few years before she died in 2008, she tripped over a laundry basket and broke her ankle and walked with a cane from then on.

Anyway, my friend Tim said he saw my sister with me at Mass.I believe that the space between the here and gone is very thin but what I heard next brought tears.She had her cane outstretched between her hands and was dancing.He said that she wanted me to see that.

winter's tale

A time of bareness.Insideness and early dark. Bluest of sky but little warmth from the sun.New beginnings.Crows in the trees and turkeys boldly coming to the door and looking in.Frozen birdbath with crows wondering where to dip their corn.

Advent is over and, quite surprisingly, the days and the journey led to unexpected places.I have joined three groups on line:one to do with the Rosary, one with Christian writers and another exploring the life of Blessed Charles de Foucald.Having done that, I am being richly rewarded with postings from many different seekers throughout the world.The blessings pour into my already overflowing wooden bowl.

Beyond the mystery of rosaries said, poems read and prayers written in the Algerian desert; in the midst of the wonders of crackling brown leaves, grey, bare tree branches, a bright hawk circling over head, a brown colored river that starts near the Atlanta Airport in a debris ridden seepage, is this:
  
 A family at church suffered a setback just before Christmas.I felt strongly that we needed to give an anonymous donation since they have children and it is the time of gift giving.My husband was totally agreeable or I am not sure it would've happened.The day after Christmas, a check arrived for that amount plus a hundred dollars from American Express.A refund from an error we knew nothing about.

finding myself on the Way

How did I find myself clutching a rosary in Advent of 2014?It started, I am convinced, with a dream.In October of last year, I had an unforgettable, though very short dream.In it, I was standing on a city sidewalk looking up at two tall flat faced buildings.Immediately, the one on the left was covered with an unfurling banner with a picture of Christ the King.Next to it, another banner unfurled, Our Lady of Guadalupe.I heard her say to me,
" When you think of it, say,"Mary, Queen of the angels, pray for us."That is all and the dream was over.

In time, I found myself checking out Clark Strand's Facebook page and there, to my astonishment was Our Lady of Guadalupe.I looked further and discovered the Way of the Rose group.I joined and here I am on this journey with 200 plus others praying the 54 day novena.

Each day, as I escape to my prayer room, I feel this peace;doing what I thought I would never have time for.The Way of Joy and Roses.

a shadow over you....

Galactic Rose

In January of 2011, a group of friends gathered at my house to pray and seek the Lord's guidance.The night before I had an unforgettable dream.I walked into a small, silent chapel and saw Christ kneeling in the front pew.Behind him were five or six figures dressed in blue, deep in prayer. That is all there was.

During the day-long praying and sharing,a phrase kept coming to me;"You are under a shadow."I pushed it away as being a negative thought but it kept returning.I hesitated to share it but when I did, none of us knew the meaning.

The next day, I read an article about a visit by Hillary Clinton to the Basilica in Mexico City that contains the tilma of Juan Diego that is imprinted with the roses he carried to his Bishop at Our Lady's request.My curiosity stirred,  I read further and found her words of comfort to this humble, unwilling man:"Do not be distressed, my littlest son.Am I not here with you who am your Mother?Are you not under my shadow, my protection?"

So she spoke then.So she speaks now.

the lady bug rosary

I think of Guy often.And of what happened in Spain.

My husband and I were walking the Camino de Santiago in September of 2013.In my side pocket was a small rosary given by a friend for the trip.I often sat on a log or a bench when John was getting a place at a hostel, and I would pray.It was so comforting on that very hard trek.

On day 7, we stopped at Rabe' and at dinner, we met some Europeans travelling the same route.Conversation was loud and hilarious but the man across from me just smiled.Guy was from Brittany in France and there was a language barrier.He seemed so content to just listen and smile.Later, we all went to the local convent for the Liturgy of the Hours with the sisters.Guy sat behind me and I could feel his holiness.

On the way back to our hostel, up the winding stone path, I kept getting the  strong feeling that I must give my rosary away.I didn't want to but the message was clear.

The next morning, in the dark, I watched as Guy left.I went out and put the little green rosary in his palm.He said:"Merci", and walked away.I don't think he realized what it was.I went back inside and sat down at the breakfast table.Then I looked up.There was Guy.He hugged me and said that the day before, he had lost his rosary on the trail.

comfort,give comfort to my people

The first reading today is just so perfect.Isaiah,I love you.The words of this prophet, who is very present in Advent, never fail to touch."Comfort.Give comfort to my people."Is.40

As I sat in church, and heard this reading , I thought of the lovely picture above of my friend Kris, whose photos have blessed this blog.She is now a family and in her arms she holds her son, Gage.This baby needs a few things; food, warmth, dryness and holding.And there he is, filled and content.She is the glowing, beautiful provider of his comfort.This connection is eternal.

Words have meaning.The word puzzle is rough and has zz's that match the raising of eyebrows.Comfort, is said gently, softly and shoulders lower and face muscles relax.Comfort:to comfort.And now, once again, I ask you to stand and stretch with me.This may be hard but if you stay with it, ponder it, see it in your mind's eye and let the stories flow through you,  maybe we will both be able to answer the question:what does God look and feel like?

The year is 1967 and I have been married a few months.I became pregnant in the Virgin Islands and knew it right away when my stomach lurched daily.Then one day, I woke up and felt completely normal again.I thought, well, "that wasn't so bad."What I didn't know was that the pregnancy had ended.In late August, I was on my way to the hospital and soon I was being wheeled into the surgery room to be cleaned up interiorly having lost the unborn.

I was terrified and alone as the gurney moved and I prayed for someone to hold my hand.Immediately, I felt a pressure on my left hand.It was if the hand holding mine was walking with the gurney.I remember nothing else until I woke up back in my room.In my very skeptical state of being, I dismissed the happening as a product of my own mind and told no one.

There is a second gurney story, told a few years ago.This time I had been walking by faith for many years.Again, I am getting scared waiting to be wheeled into surgery for a colonoscopy.I know, I am a big baby.Anyway, to my left and laying next to me was my deceased dog, Cooper.I could feel him but not see him.I "saw" his coat, fawn colored, smooth, with long shiny fur.The white star on his head and his pale nose that burned in the sun.He brought comfort.As did that hand of long ago.

I know what you are thinking but I no longer question, I just go with the flow and take comfort where it is offered with gratitude.By the way, when I got home, and this too is true, I opened Facebook and there was a post and picture of Cooper and my son that I had never seen before.The picture had been taken five years before and on that day, the owner posted it.

"Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care."Is 40:11