Wednesday, November 28, 2012


More Humming for the Holidays: Revisionist Version


♪♫♫♪ Oh, there’s no place like hum for the holidays.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way; oh, what hum it is to ride . . .
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the hum I used to know.
Silver bells, silver bells, it’s Humming time in the city.
Then He smiled at me, pa rum pumpum hum, me and my hum! ♪♪♫♪

More Knights of the Realm



Sir Hummer


Knighted Order of the Backyard Realm, caught by a perpetual watcher of the window.

Star of India


The oldest still-sailing vessel of its type finds harbor in San Diego. A fine silhouette.

It Seems So


When you do all you know to do,
and when all the other fuzzy parts are Spirit crafted,
and you know it,
you see it,
and you can’t and don’t take the credit,
then you have this big confidence that all will be well,
but it isn’t.
At least, it doesn’t seem so.
***
When you prune as much as you can of dead flesh,
the stuff that clings and corrupts,
and you submit it,
you release it,
and you won’t and don’t take the stink back,
and you have this silent hope that this was the last battle,
but then it isn’t!
At least, it doesn’t seem so.
***
And you sigh,
unclench
teeth and hands.
And you pray,
the wet, groaning kind of prayers,
the jumbled words kind,
and you find yourself once again bearing the wood.
***
The weighted wood supposedly is yours to carry,
when you thought doing and believing was enough.
And it’s too hard,
and it’s too splintered bloody,
and you can’t and don’t pretend that you are able–
that you are the walk-on-water kind of gal–
and you aren’t!
At least, it seems so.
***
But He is still there.
He picks you up—you and your cross.
You finger the torn hands,
and from somewhere within, unkempt but real, praise creeps out.
At least, it seems so.

Thursday, November 22, 2012


A Puddleglum Thanksgiving


I want to think I am a thankful person. I’ve read that Voskamp book, and I’ve gotten to #81 of my 1000 gifts recorded. (Started in July.) Okay, so I’m not doing so well.

There are some genes hidden somewhere I’m sure that boast thankful DNA. But to be honest, I have a melancholy streak in me that sees the dark side first. It’s not that I am a glass-half-empty kind of gal; I think I missed out on even getting the glass!

People that sport wide toothy grins all the time are irritating–irritating on several levels. First, no one can be that happy all the time with all the war, pollution, bed bug infestations, dog droppings in public areas, and alien snatchings abounding; and second, how in the world could they afford all those beautiful veneers anyway. Dentistry to me has always meant pain and money. “Cosmetic” isn’t even on my dentally challenged radar. So if you see a photo of me with a lovely genuine smile, most likely it will have been photoshopped, just as soon as I can afford that luxury item on my computer–me, one of the 98%! Sigh.

When I was young, my dad used to tell me to get rid of that big lip or he’d knock it off for me. No wait, that was the chip on my shoulder. I think the lip line was something about a cat going to come sit on it (which wouldn’t have been so bad, I’m thinking).

How could I explain that pouting for me was a contact sport–contact meaning communication. Without a serious pout, how was my family to know how incredibly tough life was being on this third of seven on a lovely farm in Ontario, far from the ravages of genocidal warfare, drought, bread lines, and multi-level marketing schemes. No one took my aggravations seriously, so I took to writing poetry and moody songs. Finally, I had an audience. And after all, isn’t that the most important thing in life!

So here are a few of the things I am thankful for. And be generous because I am trying really really hard!
  • I am thankful for coffee. Without it, my energy would flag by 9 a.m., and I would be more unproductive than my husband already thinks I am. The fact that it contributes to my acid reflux and costs 5 bucks a pop only serves to remind me of the incredible sacrifices of which I am capable. (Notice how I expertly was able not to end with a preposition? :-) )
  • I am thankful for my children, who though they move thousands of miles from me so as to increase my overwhelming feelings of loneliness and abandonment, still find it in their hearts (at least some of them) to have grandchildren so I will always have a new crop to laugh at my jokes.
  • I am especially thankful for my youngest child who, though I secretly always loved him best, has broken my fragile heart by announcing to his dad and me that he is actually going to move out and start a life of his own. I thought those apron strings were securely tied, and now he has the audacity to brutally and unceremoniously cut them with one callous move toward adulthood!
  • I am thankful for the United States of America that warmly awarded me with an alien registration card. I had to marry a Yank to get it, but that has worked out pretty well after all.
  • I am thankful for Costco pumpkin pie because since I paid so much money for it, I feel obligated to eat it. And what would pre-pre-Thanksgiving Day be without pie? Then I can go to the family celebration and pretend that I am sticking to my diet; though, a Curves check-in next week may be a problem.
  • Oh, and I’m thankful for Curves where I can pay good hard-earned money to pant and suffer and complain about not losing. The pie and chocolate have nothing to do with it! I’m just big-boned.
  • I kind of referenced this before, but I am thankful for my hubby, who not only made me legal, but has stood beside me through fat (I mean, thick) and thin for 39 years. His only fault (at least that I have time to mention) is that he is a poor conversationalist. As I lay in bed, all the ideas of the day percolate to my head and come out my mouth. I get some of my best ideas then. It is irritating that he thinks lying down might mean going to sleep.
I am thankful–I mean really–for many other things, but I better close now. This is exhausting. I don’t remember the last time I was so thankful all in one microburst. Whew!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012


A Puddleglum Thanksgiving


I want to think I am a thankful person. I’ve read that Voskamp book, and I’ve gotten to #81 of my 1000 gifts recorded. (Started in July.) Okay, so I’m not doing so well.

There are some genes hidden somewhere I’m sure that boast thankful DNA. But to be honest, I have a melancholy streak in me that sees the dark side first. It’s not that I am a glass-half-empty kind of gal; I think I missed out on even getting the glass!

People that sport wide toothy grins all the time are irritating–irritating on several levels. First, no one can be that happy all the time with all the war, pollution, bed bug infestations, dog droppings in public areas, and alien snatchings abounding; and second, how in the world could they afford all those beautiful veneers anyway. Dentistry to me has always meant pain and money. “Cosmetic” isn’t even on my dentally challenged radar. So if you see a photo of me with a lovely genuine smile, most likely it will have been photoshopped, just as soon as I can afford that luxury item on my computer–me, one of the 2%! Sigh.

When I was young, my dad used to tell me to get rid of that big lip or he’d knock it off for me. No wait, that was the chip on my shoulder. I think the lip line was something about a cat going to come sit on it (which wouldn’t have been so bad, I’m thinking).

How could I explain that pouting for me was a contact sport–contact meaning communication. Without a serious pout, how was my family to know how incredibly tough life was being on this third of seven on a lovely farm in Ontario, far from the ravages of genocidal warfare, drought, bread lines, and multi-level marketing schemes. No one took my aggravations seriously, so I took to writing poetry and moody songs. Finally, I had an audience. And after all, isn’t that the most important thing in life!

So here are a few of the things I am thankful for. And be generous because I am trying really really hard!
  • I am thankful for coffee. Without it, my energy would flag by 9 a.m., and I would be more unproductive than my husband already thinks I am. The fact that it contributes to my acid reflux and costs 5 bucks a pop only serves to remind me of the incredible sacrifices of which I am capable. (Notice how I expertly was able not to end with a preposition? :-) )
  • I am thankful for my children, who though they move thousands of miles from me so as to increase my overwhelming feelings of loneliness and abandonment, still find it in their hearts (at least some of them) to have grandchildren so I will always have a new crop to laugh at my jokes.
  • I am especially thankful for my youngest child who, though I secretly always loved him best, has broken my fragile heart by announcing to his dad and I that he is actually going to move out and start a life of his own. I thought those apron strings were securely tied, and now he has the audacity to brutally and unceremoniously cut them with one callous move toward adulthood!
  • I am thankful for the United States of America that warmly awarded me with an alien registration card. I had to marry a Yank to get it, but that has worked out pretty well after all.
  • I am thankful for Costco pumpkin pie because since I paid so much money for it, I feel obligated to eat it. And what would pre-pre-Thanksgiving Day be without pie? Then I can go to the family celebration and pretend that I am sticking to my diet; though, a Curves check-in next week may be a problem.
  • Oh, and I’m thankful for Curves where I can pay good hard-earned money to pant and suffer and complain about not losing. The pie and chocolate have nothing to do with it! I’m just big-boned.
  • I kind of referenced this before, but I am thankful for my hubby, who not only made me legal, but has stood beside me through fat (I mean, thick) and thin for 39 years. His only fault (at least that I have time to mention) is that he is a poor conversationalist. As I lay in bed, all the ideas of the day percolate to my head and come out my mouth. I get some of my best ideas then. It is irritating that he thinks lying down might mean going to sleep.
I am thankful–I mean really–for many other things, but I better close now. This is exhausting. I don’t remember the last time I was so thankful all in one microburst. Whew!

Merry Christmassssss!!!!



Oh, wait! It’s still November. Rats! I got all decorated up for nothing.

Puppies, Babies, and Bubbles


We slide past each other with nary a glance–
okay, maybe an obligatory smile,
artificial, fixed,
pleasant, but not too pleasant.

We, the lonely, dare not touch those others–those unknowns–
because what if they were axe murderers, terrorists, or Amway salespeople.

But on a beach, on a sunny day,
walking along in our unsuspecting cosmic aloneness,
a man with 2 sticks, a string, and a bucket of suds
sends rainbow bubbles cascading in and around and over and yon;
and in a magical moment, strangers are united in their bubbling joy.

This moment is a miracle of sorts–the same miracle that unites strangers over cooing babies and cuddly puppies.

Maybe we should send bubble men to the Middle East.


Surrender Without Suffixes


Willing surrender is not obligation,
with me pancaked from above, layer upon layer, weighed under the load—
a debt of service, of reaction, of even prayer.

Rather, obligation must radiate like spokes on a wheel,
one after another only added to the fullness of my life as I stand centered free—
desperate arms raised to the Holy.

Surrender makes obligation manageable, a part of the faith dance.

Surrender to FatherSpiritSon, stripped of carnal necessity and external have-to’s,
nothing added, nothing weighted,
with devotion treasured above all else.

Saturday, November 17, 2012


November Roses


November roses,
resisting the calendar, resisting the urge to
die and wither and fertilize.
New life opens to an uncommon warm
and tells me winter is indeed coming;
aspects of the cold already shatter my weak heart, but
in this reminder moment, I remember hope–
hope comes in November roses.


More from My Friendly Neighborhood Killer


Beak and claw and piercing glare,
seeing through bushes to the quaking heart of lunch.
I should hate your blue-grey beauty;
I should despise you ochre razors, sharpened for the grab.
But . . .
Oh, you are lovely, at attention on my ragged fence.
I am in awe–a true fan as you scan my little friends to pick off the weak.

IT’S REALLY HARD TO KEEP UP A THREATENING PERSONA WHEN THIS STUPID WIND MESSES WITH MY STYLE!!!