"An
ordinary day
is,
perhaps,
the most holy
of all.”
- m. george
a widow,
a mother
gathering sticks,
one last meal
a fire
a cake
a cruse of oil
a hungry prophet
arrives
their last supper is shared
and a promise
is born
out of
an
ordinary
act of
kindness
two women
widowed
one the mother
of the other's
husband
unquestioned devotion,
"whither thou goest
I will go"
a journey shared,
gleaning,
caring,
a husband
a son
a grandson --
redemption
drawing water from
the well
she finds a thirsty
stranger
and does what women
do on ordinary days
she offers a cup
he offers her
living waters
and she
sees
herself made
new
in his
eyes
"is not this
the Christ?"
she asks
sisters,
their chores are
shared
until she drops her
apron to
listen
to the
honored guest,
freedom from the banal
comes with a cost
she knows
but
he tells the other
to let her
listen
and she
is
free
they come for
dinner on
an ordinary
day
but she has
more than fish and
loaves to
offer
this time --
an alabaster
box,
fragrant ointment,
humility,
hunger --
she wants
what her sister
now knows
how
to stop and let
the gift of grace
fall on her
shoulders like
soft rain
she lets it
soak into the
once
hard soil
of her
busy heart
and
something
starts to
grow and
bloom
a morning
dawns and she
is awake to perform
a simple
act of love,
spices for his
interment
a fragrant resting place
for one who'd
blessed her
life with
kindness,
dignity,
compassion
she
accompanies his
grieving mother to
a loved son's
sepulcher
with only this one simple
task
to bring something
lovely
to his grave
he calls her
by her
name,
"Mary,"
and the
world is
new
for all of
us
an extraordinary
moment,
on an
ordinary
day
"The grand
must stoop
to the
menial.”
~ Mary Baker Eddy
"back in the Middle Ages,
they burned
unruly women
at the stake.
And out of the ashes
of their bones and flesh
rose the Enlightenment.”
- l. harris
i can see
them
when I
close my eyes
women with
hearts so full of
hope,
and minds
trained
on something
larger than the
smallness of
a single
lifetime
their questions
wake me from
apathy
and wrest a
a sorry comfort
from my tightly
fisted hands
hands too
soft from
having
done
so little,
taken too few steps
towards the
edge of
reason,
whispered when the
call was to
sing out --
and sing
loudly
they are the mothers
whose voices
echo through
history
asking us to
rise
when our daughters
are denied
the right to
say
"no."
they are the fathers,
the sisters,
the suffragists,
the saints
whose ashes
fall softly
still
shattering
light into a
thousand
reminders that
women have
burned for less
than this
these are the women
whose names
are etched in
the once stony hearts of
those who'd
have kept God
a Father
only
These are those
whose dreams
burn on --
an
eternal flame,
a
self-perpetuating
pyre
of light
rising higher
and higher as
self is tossed
into Love's bonfire
built from
the
fallen
deadwood
of
cruel
sentiments
that
enslaved
and
withheld
once
a flickering
then a blazing
gathering hopes
calling for courage
beckoning us to take
our place
with
Hagar
and Ruth,
Boaz,
Deborah,
Abigail,
Mary of Bethany,
of Concord,
and of Magdalene,
Jesus,
Dorcas,
Joan d'arc
Artemesia Gentileschi
and
Lucy Stone,
Lucretia Mott and
Harriet Tubman,
Elizabeth Cady Stanton,
Frederick Douglas,
and Mathilda Joslyn Gage,
Eddy and
Anthony,
Martin,
Gloria,
Theresa,
Maya,
Betty,
Nelson,
Hillary...
and from the ashes,
yes --
from the soft white ash of
grace
a cloud of witnesses,
soft as
the wings of a
dove,
blankets the
earth in a mantle of freedom
and equality,
balance of power
and
parity of worth,
human rights
based not on the consent of
one in barely tolerant
deference
to the
lesser
others
but
in recognition of
a deeper,
profound,
fundamental
spiritual
wholeness --
the right
to know,
and claim
the
All-in-allness
of our
Father
God
who is
Mother
also --
masculine
and feminine
in each,
and all
ash,
softly rising
to become
as stars in
a constellation of
promise
lighting
the way
for our
daughters --
and
our
sons.
"Prayer,
watching, and working,
combined with
self-immolation,
are God's gracious means
for accomplishing
whatever has been done
for the Christianization
and health of
mankind.”
~ Mary Baker G. Eddy
"God
doesn't want
your careful virtue,
He wants
your reckless generosity.”
- f. spufford
i walked
this world so
carefully
every i
dotted
every t
crossed
every moment of my
living
wrapped in
white linen
and tied
with a
bow
carefully,
oh so
carefully,
I navigated the
darkness,
traversed the
chasm,
found my way from
"i don't know"
to
self-certainty
with the deftness of
a sherpa
each footstep placed
with precision,
each fingerpost
adroitly
found
my focus on the
goal,
the summit,
the celebration at the
top
to reach the
moment of having
done it all
just
right
those carefully plotted moments,
a series of well-planned
moves that led
to...
what
checkmate?
but this is not
a game of
winners and losers,
of haves and have nots,
of wanting and getting,
of trying too hard
or not hard enough
to be
something we
think is
good,
better,
best
it is not a competition,
an accomplishment,
an outcome,
or something to
conquer and
possess
this is a journey,
a conversation,
a mission,
a purpose,
a shared vision
unfolding out from
the beating of
hearts,
the cry of the
collective
this is not a
solo performance
but a choir of angels
A convergence of
voices,
the raising of roofs,
the lifting of spirits,
the filling of bellies
the healing of
hearts
a divine imperative
to reach out from the
center and
find there is no circumference
no mine and yours,
no ours and theirs --
just the reckless flow of
love
a flood of generosity
that spills our banks
and carves new
contours on the
landscape of our
souls
there is nothing careful
about
virtue
virtue is a force,
a power,
a rushing,
reckless
dance towards
one another
the skipping of
a heartbeat,
the headlong act of
giving your last
farthing,
flinging yourself
from the summit of self-absorption
into the
abyss of
grace
and from this
flailing,
trusting
place of open arms
and willing hands,
I see that once-sought
summit
clearly
and
I
know that
this
is where
I belong
falling
falling
to my knees
for Him
and for
His...
"“O my God,
teach me to be generous,
to serve You
as you deserve to be served,
to give without counting the cost,
to fight without fear of being wounded,
to work without seeking rest,
and to spend myself
without expecting any reward
but the knowledge
that I am
doing your holy will.
Amen”
~ Ignatius of Loyola
