The Mind's Muddy River cannot be Dammed --post by QM

Annie Dillard's words from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek page 32-32 are in italics.
 

Painting By Alexandra Ross

My heart burned, unexpectedly.
Isn't that always the nature of a burning heart,
Those two dense men traveling to Emmaus, 
they remembered the ache after the fact.

The literature of illumination reveals this above all: although it comes to those who wait for it, it is always, even to the most practiced and adept, a gift and a total surprise.

I had spent the day in a stupor, just sick enough to be lazy without feeling guilty 
and not so sick that I couldn't enjoy my laziness. 

I was enjoying a solitary lunch--
Sunday's Vietnamese Chicken soup,
Ginger Honey Lemon tea
And a piece of Lindt Chocolate.
Of course a book needed to be a part of this repast,
The calm before I stormed the needs of my chaotic laundry room.
I propped Annie Dillard's 'Pilgrim at Tinker Creek' in front of my steaming bowl.

The world's spiritual geniuses seem to discover universally
that the mind's muddy river,
this ceaseless flow of trivia and trash,
cannot be dammed, and that trying to dam it is a waste of effort that might lead to madness. 

I felt the minute details of my life swirling by, 
the detritus of 'ought' and 'should' that keeps me always occupied.
Suddenly I couldn't see. I smelled the sharpness of fishsauce and ginger, 
and the sweetness of the chocolate still lingered in my mouth, 
but the Emmaus Ache stole my vision with tears. 

"Launch into the deep," says Jacques Ellul, "and you shall see."
 
Today a friend wrote a peppy and thought-provoking little message on Facebook that went something like this:
Why limit yourself??? ...Why do we sometimes think..."My dream is dead...that's no longer for me"? That's a lie. Many times we are better positioned when we are older to take on that dream and realize it!! So dream big! 

I have been thinking about my dreams ever since. I want to 
paint,
write,
speak, 
get my master's in teaching English as a Second Language,
welcome people of all backgrounds into the church,
help immigrants and refugees learn how to communicate with Americans, 
keep a well organized house,
continue to love on my kids and husband,
be hospitable, and
make more meals like that Vietnamese Chicken Soup.

Another, final dream: to learn the Secret of Seeing and to draw other into that joy.
To return from one walk knowing where the killdeer nests in the field by the creek and the hour the laurel blooms. And to return from the same walk a day later scarcely knowing my own name.

Litanies
hum in my ears;
my tongue 
flaps in my mouth
Ailinon, alleluia!
I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam.   

I Saw Death Today --QM

For weeks I've wanted to write about my Grandma Alene and share here the words I spoke at her funeral. I might someday, but today I write about a stranger's passing.

I saw death today.

If I could just imagine away

the twisted car,

the men in orange vests holding the traffic at bay, and

the fierce lights flashing red and blue.

I wanted to replace them all with the sand and surf,

and walk nonchalantly by that strong young man,

his chiseled arms golden brown in the hot noon sunshine,

reclining in his beach chair, arms limp in sun-sleep,

with a white towel over his face

to keep away the sand flies.

I saw his form for only a second, on my way home from an ordinary shopping trip.

The white cloth on his face made me long to surrender my day—

to give up my to-do list in favor of prayer for all those hurling about in cars.

Instead I busied myself with the duties of my home—

chicken and rice to put in the oven, garden vegetables to chop and roast.

I picked too-ripe tomatoes from our chaotic but robust plant.

Bending down, searching through tightly twisted vines,

my quest for food crushed out the sharp smell of green leaves.

I’ve always hated that bitter smell.

Deep in the dark middle of those vines lay the fallen ones,

a pile of red potential wasted on ants,

and a few bloated yellow cucumbers.

I cannot reach them all.

 

A dress rinsed, a life washed--QM and the Book of Common Prayer

A dress flaps outside, dripping water over the roses. I've worn this TJ Maxx find to almost every wedding I've attended since the long-ago hitching of my brother and sister-in-law. After the violence done to it this Sunday, however, I was afraid it might be time to retire my favorite outfit.

We do a few things conservatively at GMC, and communion is one of them--traditionally celebrated bi-yearly. The time had come around again, but on this occasion the congregation was encouraged to think outside the box a bit, to break the bread together as families (or not), to take the feast up front (or not), and to generally be creative and spontaneous. This isn't easy for many conservatives to accomplish.

Ethan and I are, by nature, creative and spontaneous, but we found ourselves following the crowd, taking the elements in a line like everyone else. Once we were at our seat, however, I felt that I just MUST do something unique. Then I remembered the Wesleyans.

"Intinction!" I  thought--now there is a great example of creativity in a Mennonite, to borrow from another denomination! I took my chunk of homemade bread, and dunked it in the small cup of Welches' grape juice.
I'd forgotten some simple science that may (or may not) be called displacement theory.
Purple juice puddled into my well-dressed lap.
The Body of Christ, the bread of heaven. Amen
I look down at the dripping bread in my hand, and quickly ate.
The Blood of Christ, the cup of salvation. Amen
Suddenly I didn't care if my dress was forever ruined. Hang tidiness! I understood anew the mess of myself and the paradoxical mess of the cross. As I stared at my lap it was as if the purple turned red and the drops grew into a flood. The blood spilled, the stains removed--the shame taken away for good.

I lost it.

I wasn't crying politely, I sobbed out with gratitude for who I am--who we are!--because the Eternal God:
graciously accepted us as living members and
fed us with spiritual food
in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood 

This is the reality of my life--the kindness and love I have for people, the desire I have to live for others and not myself, any excellence of wifedom and motherhood I may have, and the holiness and purity I pursue do not come by some artificial striving on my part. The good qualities I posses spring up within me because I'm a soul surrendered to Jesus.
Let us go forth into the world,
rejoicing in the power of the Spirit.
Thanks be to God.

Not Goodbye, but See You Later--QM

After church today Dorie asked if we could visit Arie's grave together. Its been a year and a day since her home-going.

My sister and I held hands for a few moments while walking to her grave, our touch achingly tangible, but soon dropped, unsustainable.  We rarely hold hands for long.

Holly and I talked about shoes, mixing bowls, generous friends,
      and then we fell silent, looking out across the muddy field.
Tiny droplets fell on my cheeks, and lightly misted the scripted stone.

We remembered together our visions of the little lion girl, weak in body but fierce in joy.
In our hearts we had seen her whole, dancing, twirling in her grandparent's living room--neurons and muscles connected, body beautified.

My sister and I had a faith that wasn't conjured but had spun itself almost unbidden.
Of course this beautiful child would live and thrive.
I looked out across the field, and stared at the yellow school bus, the empty playground with the wet slides and swings. I could feel--almost see--the little hole in the scene where she should be,
           swinging,
          laughing,
          learning to read,
          smiling that million-dollar smile.

Instead that Arie-shaped hole was a little chasm at my feet, the grass already green and marked with a pink-toned stone.

My sister and I slowly walked back toward the lights of the church and Holly said "I want to love deeply-to take every moment to get to know my family and friends so that there is an emptiness when they are gone."

The moment after she spoke those words a shower plunged down from the sky, the biggest drops of rain I've ever seen, and we ran for cover.

The Real is in the rain, in the solid earth that can be dug up, and in the touch of two hands joined for a moment.

The Real is also in the vision of a little girl named Ariel, learning to dance with Jesus, in a place somewhere that is even more solid than here. 

32 reasons to be glad after my 31st year--QM

The best peanut butter pie I've ever had, available at Ronda's

I'm 32 today.
Yesterday Ethan said, "Well honey, after today, you'll never get your 31st year back again,"
and I replied rather caustically "Thank goodness."
But later my heart was pricked with the attitude behind my "good riddance to my 31st year" comment.
You see--

I've been listening to Exodus while I do dishes.

Those Israelites,
that ragtag crowd of slaves, they
ate roasted lamb
      with bitter herbs.
They knew 400 years of bitter treatment.
I have compassion for newly-freed slaves
      with scars cut deep into their strong backs,
       memories cut even deeper of
wet newborns silenced in the river
hearts and breasts sore from un-drunk milk,

I understand how they tripped up on trust, that their desert-thirst was bigger than their memory of the miracle of the Red Sea.

But I also understand the thundering of their-God-my-God, whom they drove to the brink of silencing forever their grumbling and complaining. I've never liked whining, even my own.

So, on this Ninth of March, I come to the Thundering Mountain, not trembling, but as a daughter—a grateful daughter, shoes off. I’m not necessarily forgetting the bitter salad of this past year, but I chose to focus instead on the feast of lamb with this list of 32 blessings. Most of these gifts would never have happened if I had been in the country and place of my choosing.

2014’s Spring

1  Meeting my beautiful niece Ariel and saying goodbye to her too, a hard gift

2     Driving through the misty flats of Delaware, the understated and under-appreciated beauty of home

3     Spur-of-the-moment meal invitations accepted by my sister

4     Dishwashers and stovetops with four burners instead of two

5     Story time at the Greenwood Public Library

6     Thrift Stores

2014’s Summer

7     Sweltering afternoons cooling off in the JAARS’ pool (James learning to swim!)

8     The surprise of working and loving the job as a JAARS Tour Guide

9   Cups of tea in the Wycliffe Counseling office and their compassionate conversations

10   Small pots made out of red North Carolina clay by Dorie, James, and their pack of neighborhood friends

11   Waxhaw Elementary School and a fantastic start to Dorie’s education

12  Stash tea, vinyl records, and deep friendship with the Sleeps

 13 Cavities missed or ignored by previous dentists, but found and filled here

14  A dozen delightful new friendships—John and Kristy Craig, to name one

2014’s Fall

15  Love shown in Orange: a table of sympathy full of orange flowers, orange lip balm & bath gel, and orange tissues on the hardest day of my year

16   A family vacation to Tennessee at the peak of the fall colors, and just when my heart needed time to gasp, to process the death of so many dreams, to gather strength, and to remember that the death of the chlorophyll is what brings out the beauty of Autumn.

17  Forever memories for Dorie and James of their GGma and GGpa (Ethan’s grandparents), a short two hour drive from our NC home

2014/2015’s Winter

18   Huddling up against the cold and enjoying Ethan’s family for two wonderful months—uncles, aunts, cousins, Omi and Opi, and lots of snow for James and Dorie to play with

19   Deepening friendships with Faith Bible Church, the Alianellos, and others

20   Meeting for a reunion with my RBC freshman-year girlfriends and our ever expanding brood—the good old days haven’t died

21   An easy transition back to Greenwood, Delaware—daily reminders of the rich community we enjoy

22   Sending Dorie to my old elementary playground, Greenwood Mennonite School

23   Saying hello to old friends—boxes and boxes of books packed away when we moved to Texas in 2011…we must claim the label ‘bibliophiles!’

24   Settling long enough to purchase a piece of furniture—a family sized bean bag!

25   Monday Game Night with my family

26   Landing a job doing exactly what I’ve wanted to do since high school—helping ESL students and their teachers

27   Reading time with Grandma Alene, a two minute walk away for James and Dorie

28   The joy of caring for elderly again: soapy washcloths, pureed food, answered bells, and wrinkled smiles

29   Attending Sewing Retreat

31.   A new job for Ethan (first day today!)

32.   Eating a Birthday Lunch with ‘the Yoder gals’ at Rondas (One of my favorite restaurants anywhere)

Here is to the changing seasons of life; to spring-green, verdant grass, Tennessee orange, and winter's white. This has been a year of change, but I'd be foolish to only grumble.