life and death issues. mainly life. except when they’re about death. which is also life. maybe life/death

I was planning to write the best poem in the history of the known universe tonight, naturally, right? {*life goals*. This point made even more credible and significant by these squiggly brackets.}
Then I started drinking this rum and coke and it seems the poem fell into the glass {because, where else would it be?}
I thought I could drink down to it. Turns out, I am still kind of naive about a few things…

Oh, and I have been preoccupied thinking about a funeral my husband will be conducting tomorrow, for a popular member of this community, who was only 20.
(He was on his dirt bike, competing, when his bike stalled, mid air.)
It’s going to be a huge funeral.

There’s a lot going on right now, it seems (- Captain Obvious.)
So I did what any normal human would do when slapped in the face with all angles sharpened on profundity: I started going through my Facebook page.
I’m not on there as much as I used to be, and it was delightful to find this post. I thought I would share it. Because, there are some amazing people in this world. I am beyond grateful that I know some of them.  And is there a greater gift than people who just get you? And that we are all in this together?

’13 August 2016 ·
Is beginning to wonder about my reputation …last night as I arrived at our church quiz night, and at our Monday evening bible study, the first thing I hear is, “You’re here! We didn’t want to start drinking till you got here…” (Wait, did I say I was worried about my reputation…that moment has passed 😉 )’

 

you know I’ll only say wiedersehen

what a recondite day for a funeral

the sky the colour of wind

with it’s abstruse way of connecting

and a restless need to rescind

 

the boundaries of pre conceived notions

that death is a part of life

we weren’t created to be separated

I’ll never stop thinking we’re rife

 

with the agonies of dimensional distance

cunning, convoluted and cruel

I thank God for blessed reunions

and perfuming the stench of death’s fuel.

 

 

the book with no names

Easter Tuesday 018.jpg

So for those of you who don’t know, I am married to a Lutheran pastor.

I could seriously write a book about what life has been like in the last 20+ years living this reality. The thing is, if I did, I would have to kill everyone first. Because changing names wouldn’t be enough.
I jest, of course!

But, these people are dear to my heart. My husband is the pastor of five churches and our churches are small. And of course, microcosms of greater realities. There are times I have enjoyed worshipping with big congregations. The fellowship can be incredible. However, for people with anxiety issues, being welcomed into a smaller community has been an extremely healing thing for them, and we have witnessed beautiful things that literally brings tears to my eyes.

One of the highlights for me was when a very reclusive gentleman, who has some serious anxiety issues for a number of reasons, finally joined our smallest congregation. To say that it terrifies him to join a large group of people, would be a grave understatement. So to see his ongoing healing from the love in that community, has been nothing short of amazing. Last year, he called our house to wish me a happy birthday on behalf of their little church. It is hard for me to put into words what that meant to me, because I know the agony he would have gone through before he made that call. (Please don’t tell him I wrote about him, he would die! 🙂 )

I truly feel blessed I am a part of all of this. And I will always be proud to be a part of these families. Warts and all.

(And thank you WordPress, for being another “family” I have come to love.)

 

silly ditty thingamajig for Kindra

while prancing on my unicorn

one day, I felt so free

I pondered life

and all its ways

and how I never particularly liked horses, (especially after that one time at Ariane’s but anyway), ironically.

 

don’t get me wrong

they’re beautiful

to look at and admire

their graceful stance

their peaceful ways

and to watch them gallop along movie set beaches and whatnot I would not likely tire

 

from any time soon.

But when I look

at what needs to be done

and the mess that’s in this room

I stop a while

to appreciate

that unicorns really are more awesome

how it lifts me from life’s gloom.

(*edit I also feel that the unicorn should do the prancing,

not I.)

 

I’m so grateful

for the lovely gift

from such a gracious soul,

I told her that I named it,

“she who treads lightly and wisely but knows how to have a darn good time”

and makes me feel not so

unwhole.

(*NB. even though the literary slaughtering that occurred here may offend some viewers, please be assured no unicorns were harmed in the process. Well, maybe just their dignity…
A big thank you to Kindra for the unicorn.)

And here’s a musical tribute that I believe matches the genuine nature of, well, something…

for Melissa

harmonica dream

swirling and seen

as we drift into sleep.

 

so long in the past

our impressions were cast

our friendship to keep.

 

our young minds so moved

the lyrics manoeuvred

to capture the steep

 

rise and the fall

of broken hearts’ call

the standing that’s reaped.

~

Thirty years on

our friendship, blessed, strong

lament’s aura seeps

still,

into sympathetic hearts

joined forever.

~*~

For dear Melissa, my friend from high school, the times we fell asleep to this gorgeous song. (I was so tempted, Mel, to write, “manooved” in the poem 🙂 )

And to those who struggle with serious addiction. My heart is filled with empathy ❤

 

 

 

the gentle cradle…

of the soundtrack

to my dream last night,

facing me forward

into the slip stream of my mind’s review,

while time was on the accordion

compressing the memories

and playing the ones that wanted to stay.

Mesmerising to a standstill

the notes raimented themselves before me,

their diaphanous linger

forming the shape of my mother.

Stepping out of the slipstream

I watch her,

beautiful in dream youth,

opening a window…