Have I mentioned flowers?
These delicate films of color reaching stretching becoming home, this given light
the pulling sun reaching stretching welcoming crocus, golden and first
Mom's room was full of flowers. They spilled into the house, the shed, the driveway, and out into the fields and gardens beyond. Day lilies, blood lilies, yucca, wild rose, lavender, daisy, chamomile, cosmos, chicory, rosemary.
There were lilies in the last song I played for her, climbing the winding spiral air.
Funnily enough, narcissus was in the song, too.
My difficulty is indeed in what I look at, how I interpret events, my reactions to those interpretations, and the events that result from my reactions to those interpretation. It's all ridiculous, really. And I feel so stuck there. There is not the barest glimmer of anything but myself and how shoddily I am living my one wild and precious life.
That is where narcissus takes me, anyway, and I don't want to go there anymore. And if I do, because I know I will, I want to see where I am and take my leave.
Fall back into grace.
This time I remembered, finally, to ask God to use even these feelings of disappointment and lost opportunity and anger, and also the self-blame and criticism and disparagement that file right in. And then the bishop's wife posted about being vulnerable before God and community,
What keeps me wrapped in the blanket of this Episcopal Church is that it does not walk away. No matter the extremes of my or anybody’s life, it stays and stands patiently with its gentle voice of prayer, mirroring the words of Jesus, Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. This Church of mine wants me to be the most kind, thoughtful, peaceful person I can be, but it knows that is not the wholeness of me and it still doesn’t let go of my hands. It still doesn’t raise its voice and run away screaming. I pray that this Lenten season is a time for you to melt down and expose your most core desires and fears.
And so tomorrow, whatever else it be, is the Tuesday of Shriving.
And I wonder what it will be like to shed those layers and husks, to open to that pull of the sun.