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| Wild Iris, Fairbanks, Alaska |
The morning not clear,
Not the whys nor the wherefores.
Pushing back (from my friends)
As the cloud of talk floats--
I'm as hazy as dust motes.
The air warm and sultry,
My heart distant,
Not too lonely.
It's been worse.
I've been worse.
Remember, my mother said (as she was dying),
"It always gets better."
And it does.
The month is May, and I am the matriarch.
A family not without heartache, not without joy.
Roots entangled, branches reaching,
I never stop searching.
My joys may be common, my heartaches unique.
(Probably wrong, so often wrong.)
My son died too young,
The age of our Savior
When blinded by God,
Bowing to Majesty, palm touching palm.
Blessings to give and blessings to take.
Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour . . .
My daughter plummeted
Not without heartache, not without joy,
With a mind fearful muddled
And blind to her losses,
Leaving pain in its wake (and she chooses the wake).
Me the repository,
I am the matriarch.
Secrets solved but remembered.
Bravery and love. Bravery and love.
Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us . . .
Our grandson is living this summer with us.
I am full,
More full than I pictured this sweet month of May.
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| Madonna and Child Vincenzo Foppa, 1480 |
"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." Romans 8:26
This text was a recent Sunday's bible verse.
Like some, I light candles before worship. Some of the people I have intentions for, a simple prayer that they be well has not worked. After many years, they are not well. The Spirit needs to determine what is the best prayer. A pray for healing can be unrealistic. But there are other prayers, like "Help, save, comfort and defend us Gracious Lord." There are many.
When someone young was dying, a close Catholic friend said to him, "When I come back next week tell me what you want second." Perhaps we should all think about that.
Some people pray for surcease from pain. I do that only in moments when pain is acute, which does not happen too often. Many people's daily physical pain is more than mine, many less. As we grow older, some degree of chronic pain is common. It makes me think of Emily Dickinson's poem:
"After great pain, a formal feeling comes - / The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs -"
Many of us have had pain that hijacks our attention. When it passes the nerves are on edge, waiting. Is it over? We treat our bodies tenderly. Our nerves have been traumatized; like a baby, they need to be comforted. We tiptoe.
Mental and emotional suffering is another kind of pain. It can arise when someone we love hurts: our child, our spouse, our parent . . . would we even notice a bad back or hip or knee as we sat at the bedside of a loved one? Or it can arise when we ourselves hurt from loss or betrayal, grief, trauma or the imminence of death.
Some readers think Dickinson was writing about suffering, in other words, emotional pain. In the law, with which I am familiar, physical hurt is called pain, emotional hurt, suffering. If our leg is gone, we may have no physical pain at all. But we may still suffer. In her poem, Dickinson wonders whether Christ's pain was like ours or whether ours is like His.
"The stiff Heart questions, 'was it He, that bore,' / And 'Yesterday, or centuries before'?"
She continues, " A Quartz contentment, like a stone / This is the Hour of Lead - "
Some commentators think that the whole poem is about emotional or psychic pain. But it is not. It is about when pain ceases. " First chill - then Stupor - then the letting go." There is a great surcease when we return to equilibrium. The "letting go" is tangible. We breathe easier. Our muscles relax. Our brows unforrow.
The death of someone may be a surcease of pain. It may bring relief, to them and to us. We are grateful for their life; we are grateful for their death. Haven't you experienced that? The Spirit helps us pray when someone dies; when mental illness drives the cart; when a disc slips or a brain bleeds or a heart stops.
The Book of Romans tells us that the Spirit intercedes through wordless groans. My own groans may be no more than, "Oh please." We want the pain or the suffering to stop. Let us believe the promise that it always will. AMEN
What are some lovely things you might like to do? My meadow of daisies is blooming right now. I have set out vases of daisies everywhere!
When the news is just too much, it's nice to back away from the pain of the world and make our lives smaller. It's healthy, too, to take a break from the visage of the former President on trial. Our psyches deserve a respite.
So, I admit, I pick daisies. If the stars align, we might even come to the beach, where we are right now. Then a smaller life seems like a larger life. Then we hear the waves and see the water, shades of green and deep blue today, graduated out to the horizon. We turn on the ceiling fans and leave everything open. We eat sea bass and softshell crabs and steamed shrimp with butter. Life here is simpler, yes, but fuller at the same time. To me, bare toes in the sand always feels expansive.
We can make home like this too. We can make our houses feel just so us, so only ours, different from any other house we have ever seen or been in. That's why home shows are so popular. We delight in having these spaces to make uniquely ours. Our plants, the colors we choose, the views out our windows, the feel of plush carpet or slick hardwood. If we have to move, we take Uncle Roy's rocker with us, Grandma's china and her lace tablecloth we seldom use. At least I do. Some people start fresh, just as brilliant.
My mother was an embroiderer. She made me an exquisitely embroidered linen blouse that, except for the embroidery, has not lasted. So, I cut out patches and framed them. Now I think of her when I look up from my computer to the shelfie above.
What are some lovely things you might do? Frame something, paint something, rearrange the furniture, declutter a room or two? Walk to whatever shore is near you, whatever valley or path or hill? Eat outdoors? Bring home flowers? Put problems on hold and make your life simpler, smaller and more expansive at the same time. Enjoy!
Nina Naomi
