7. Reflect: A poem for Friday

1. (transient verb) To give back or mirror. 2. (Intransient verb) To give something back as light. 3(Intransient verb). Carefully considered thoughts.

Even though it was not personal to me, the Connecticut shootings last Friday was something I will continue thinking about for a long time. On the day of the shootings my family went to hear my husband perform in the Nutcracker. The artistic director gave a very tactful address towards the tragedy and reminded of the importance of art and beauty. Coincidentally (I think?) several times in the blocking of the first scene there were exactly 27 people on stage. Then all left the stage, going to bed, and all that was left was darkness and a giant twinkling Christmas tree. For me it was a reminder of lives lost. With deepest sympathy, here is my reflection in poem and photo essay from the day.

A Poem for Friday

Often, in December, the wind is piercing cold;

leaves linger and fall,

and even the mocking bird sits-too chilled to move,

and dead butterflies (still brilliant)

collect on the ground.

The ends of our eyes stick together

and sound is drowned.
A void

is blowing us down.

Light shines through

the holes.

Angels, lay unnoticed,

just beyond view.

We close our eyes

(Praying: mercy; raindrops), 

and hold hands.

Move forward

together.

The seed pod is waiting. 

To spread exuberance,

and, miraculously,

flowers still bloom

in December. 

I hold the Thanksgiving wishbone

in my hand 

and wonder:

What comes next year?

A snowflake touches the ground 

with it's toe.

We embrace 

a dream,

the morning.

The laughter of children

echoes

in the air.

----------------------------

Twenty eight people were killed on December 14th by guns. Disgusting. There are countless responsible gun owners in this country, but that does not discount the facts that additionally "every year there are 30,000 gun deaths in the United States and 300,000 gun related assalts."  I firmly believe that we are long overdue for some much different gun regulations in this country. And while I don't know all of the answers to this complex problem, I feel that more stringent gun regulations (not elimination) will be an important step in prevention. Period.

I've been asking what I can do as an individual. I had already been in progress of beginning to sell photo cards on Etsy and through the Oklahoma Food Coop and have decided that some of this collection of images will be amongst my first set to sell and that 15% of my proceeds will go towards organizations that help prevent gun violence and organizations that promote juvenille access to mental health. I am aiming to have these for sale by the end of this week. (Also I'm taking suggestions on organizations to donate to meeting either of these criteria as I am still researching that).

5. Ridden

1. Noun. (To be burdened and overwhelmed with. 
2. Verb. (To sit on and control).

(Yes, I know, he is riding a rhinocerous, but in my world anything is possible. If the nativity had taken place in Africa or Oklahoma, I am certain this would have been the animal of choice).

Thinking lots about Mary and what must have been a rather rough journey on the donkey and all the things that must have been weighing on her mind.  Thinking about whether it would have been unexpected or ordinary for an overly pregnant woman in Palestine to travel long distances by donkey. I can't help but think of her loneliness and that she was probably all alone having an unassisted birth in a smelly place.

For most of us our journeys also are going to have lots of bumps along the way, but sometimes we will have our greatest victories in our most humble situations.  And when we look for them we will have unanticipated metaphorical vehicles to carry us safely from place A to place B.

It appears that Mary is the one to immulate in this story, bearing light and joy to the world ridding things out on top, having faith that someone else knows the path and confidence despite the unknown. But sometimes I think we actually allow ourselves to become the beast: carrying the weight of so many things that weigh us (collectively) down: sorrow, debt, illness, worry, uncertainty, passed opportunities. At first this seems troubling, but I think God also calls us to be co-bearers of the pain of the world, to submit like animals as he instructs in Matthew 11:29-30 "take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." 

This season, may you find the vehicles to carry you across whatever you are facing and both bear and share the yoke of love in all it's joys and sorrows.