Sitting in a booth
In the glorified hamburger joint
With four lines of description
For each fancy-named burger on the menu
Including the ones made from
100% grass fed free range
New Zealand lamb
Burgers with
Garlic aioli, carmelized onion
Sautéed wild mushrooms
Tzatziki sauce, organic ketchup
ORGANIC KETCHUP!
The music a little too loud,
But only a little
The waiter a little too friendly,
But only a little
The pace – the ambience, I suppose – a little too fast,
But only a little
The menu makes me smile
Not exactly with delight
A more rueful smile
At the necessary pretentiousness
Did they begin in Portland?
But the food is delicious
And Woody sits across from me.
I am slightly astonished and bemused
To realize I am comfortable here.
(Slightly astonished sounds like
A little bit pregnant
Or somewhat unique.
Let’s just say
I am astonished.)
Measurement
But grace was given to each of us
according to the measure of Christ’s gift.
(Ephesians 4:7)
What, then, is the measure of a gift?
Do I measure by satisfaction:
Is it what I needed?
Is it what I wanted?
Do I measure by comparison:
Is it better than other gifts?
Is it better than what others got?
Do I measure by value:
How much did it cost?
How special is it?
Do I measure by the giver:
How much do I care about the giver?
How much does the giver care about me?
Do I measure by the effect:
What does the gift do for me?
How does the gift make life better?
I have measured gifts
In all those ways
And more, at times.
I have felt hurt by gifts
That didn’t measure up.
I have hurt others
By my reaction
To their gifts
That didn’t measure up.
I have given myself gifts
That didn’t measure up.
“According to the measure…”
What is the measure of Christ’s gift?
What is the measure of my gratitude?
Ah, Paul, you tricky apostle.
There is no measure, is there?
An immeasurable gift
Calls forth immeasurable gratitude.
God, Person without measure,
God of steadfast love,
God of enduring faithfulness,
God of all my days and ways,
Let my response, my gratitude
Be as immeasurable as Your gift.
Catching Up
Wow! It’s so good to see you. You look great. How long has it been?
Years, decades, a different century, a different millennium.
It sure was a long time ago.
So much has changed.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone remembers anymore, what it was like.
Sometimes I wonder if I even really lived my memories.
Oh, say, remember Jerry? Remember how anxious he got about taking tests?
Didn’t he sit next to you to take the GRE so he wouldn’t be so nervous?
He did, but it didn’t work.
When I saw Network – that reporter who sweated through his shirts when he tried to anchor –
I thought of Jerry taking the GRE.
Didn’t he live with all of you in that big house near campus?
Was he the one who started the fire in the oven, that brought the fire truck out?
Didn’t you have to scramble to hide the dope?
Yes, yes, all of that.
Wasn’t he from New York?
Wasn’t he the one who thought we could drive to San Francisco in one day?
That sounds like Jerry.
I remember going with him to Yellowstone.
On the drive there, he kept asking why no one had built a city on all this land.
You know, I never really knew…
Were he and Sharon ever a couple? Were you and he ever a couple?
Oh, we didn’t really do couples back then.
But Jerry, well Jerry only thought he was interested in us.
Then he said he was bi, but finally he just said he was gay.
It wasn’t a big coming out deal. He just told a few of us, his close friends.
I remember how nervous he was – almost as nervous as taking the GRE.
What ever happened to Jerry?
You and he were such good friends.
Did you stay in touch?
We did for awhile.
I still think of him, but I’m scared to try to find him.
He moved to San Francisco in ‘81.
Oh…shit
Three Leaves
Three leaves
Golden falling
Spinning drifting
Dancing shifting
Just glimpsed
Briefly
Through the windshield
As we speed past
On the unchanging interstate
While all around us
The world changes
Woody’s Quiet
I noticed his quiet acceptance
When someone claimed there were hardly any trees planted
At the time he retired as manager
I noticed his quiet smile
When I was still in bed reading when he returned
From walking the grounds with Larry
I noticed his quiet reading
When I made myself breakfast and got ready
As he sat on the sofa with a western and a glass of milk
I noticed his quiet pleasure
When we walked the woodland paths
After we drove to the arboretum
And I heard his quiet spirit
Echoed In his beloved woods
Framed Sunflowers
Standing at the kitchen sink
My hands buried in warm, soapy water
I busily wash dirty dishes
While my gaze lingers on the sunflowers
Framed by the window
The sunflowers that are not in the garden
But there, just so, almost in the middle of the grass
Five sunflower plants
Grown tall
Their showy heavy flowers
Bending low now
Preparing to return to earth
As summer gives way to fall.
Five absurdly placed sunflowers
Not planted
But grown tall from seeds in dog droppings
Gifts from our dogs
And from my usually practical husband
Who carefully mows around them
Because they are framed perfectly
By the kitchen window
As I busily wash dishes
Buried in soapy water.
Something Not Memory
Something not memory
drives me from my book,
eyes wandering from the words on the page,
to stare across the years
at stacks of construction paper,
colored slivers on a shelf,
flimsier than my hands expected,
easily folded, easily torn, easily ruined,
but stacked on a shelf
so yummy, so soothing,
in clean layers of colors:
browns, greens, reds, blues
but the blacks and yellows always looked harsh,
suitable only for Halloween.
Something not memory
drives me to the keyboard,
to type electronic words
on an electronic page,
electronic words of construction paper,
thinner but better than lined writing paper,
easily disturbed, easily scattered,
but still safe, still scrumptious
in something quiet, more than memory.
Paraphrase of 1 Cor 3:6-9
Whenever someone says, “I belong to the Catholic Church,” and another,
“I belong to the Lutheran Church,” are you not thinking as non-spiritual humans?
What is the Catholic Church, after all, and what is the Lutheran Church?
At most, they are ministers through whom you became believers,
just as the Lord assigned each one.
Churches may plant, denominations may water, but God causes the growth.
Therefore, neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything,
but only God, who causes the growth.
Churches that plant and denominations that water are one,
and each will receive wages in proportion to their labor.
For they may be God’s co-workers;
but we are God’s field, God’s building.
Paraphrase of Ezekiel 12:1-12
The word of God came to me:
Daughter of woman, you worship and labor in the midst of a rebellious church;
they have eyes to see but do not see,
and ears to hear but do not hear,
for they are a rebellious church.
Now, daughter of woman, in the harsh glare of revelations, while they are looking on,
prepare your spirit as though you were one of the abused,
and again while they are looking on,
migrate from where you worship and labor under them to another place;
perhaps they will see that they are a rebellious church.
You shall bring out your spirit like one of the abused, in the harsh glare of revelations
while they are looking on;
in the quiet sanctuary, again while they are looking on,
you shall go out like one of those abused and driven into exile;
while they look on, dig a hole through their walled indifference and pass beyond it;
while they look on, shoulder the burden of the abused and set out in the darkness;
cover your face and weep, refuse their boundaries on your soul,
for I have made you a sign for the Catholic Church.
I did as I was told.
In the harsh glare of revelations I brought out my spirit
as though it were that of an abused one,
and in the quiet sanctuary I dug a hole through their walled indifference with my prayers and actions
and, while they looked on, I set out in the darkness as one abused,
shouldering their burden.
Then, in the morning, the word of the God came to me:
Daughter of woman, did not the Catholic Church, that rebellious house,
ask you what you were doing?
Tell them: Thus says God
This oracle concerns Rome
and the whole hierarchy within it.
I am a sign for you:
as I have done, so shall it be done to them;
as captives they shall go into exile.
The prince who is among them shall shoulder this burden
and set out in darkness,
going through a hole he has dug out in their walled indifference,
and covering his face in shame for all to see.
Paraphrase of Ezekiel 34:1-11
The word of the Lady Wisdom came to me:
Daughter of woman, prophesy against the shepherds of the new Israel,
in these words prophesy to them to the shepherds:
Thus says the Lady Wisdom: Woe to the shepherds of the new Israel
who have been pleasuring themselves!
Should not shepherds, rather, pasture sheep?
You have fed off their innocence, worn their youth,
and slaughtered their faith,
but the sheep you have not pastured.
You did not strengthen the weak nor heal the sick
nor bind up the injured.
You did not bring back the strayed nor seek the lost,
but you lorded it over them harshly and brutally.
So they were scattered for the lack of a shepherd,
and became food for all the wild beasts.
My sheep were scattered
and wandered over all the mountains and high hills;
my sheep were scattered over the whole earth,
with no one to look after them or to search for them.
Therefore, shepherds, hear the word of the Lady Wisdom:
As I live, says the Lady Wisdom,
because my sheep have been given over to pillage,
and because my sheep have become food for every wild beast,
for lack of a shepherd;
because my shepherds did not look after my sheep,
but pleasured themselves and did not pasture my sheep;
because of this, shepherds, hear the word of the Lady Wisdom:
Thus says the Lady Wisdom:
I swear I am coming against these shepherds.
I will claim my sheep from them
and put a stop to their shepherding my sheep
so that they may no longer pleasure themselves.
I will save my sheep,
that they may no longer be food for their mouths.
For thus says the Lady Wisdom:
I myself will look after and tend my sheep.
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