The Big H

Father,
My sister and I have set a date
For her untimely relocation
To our home in Wurtsboro Hills.

I remember being eight,
And we pulled up to the house
In Daddy's Chrysler.
My parents paused,
Surveying the house
From the car's confines.
Finally, Mommie spoke.
"Is this it?" she asked.
"What a dump!"

Mommie was the first one
To then fall in love with said dump.

The Big H,
The House on the Hill,
Became a summertime haven for
The four of us.
We were normal there,
Much more mentally and emotionally healthy
Than when we were in Brooklyn.
I would squeeze my childhood into two months,
Climbing trees,
Catching and releasing grasshoppers,
Swimming like a fish at the lake.
I would weep on the return trip to Brooklyn,
Bracing for the torturous school year ahead.

My parents and sister
Were ready to make the move there
In 1997.
I had moved out that summer
Under the thin guise of finishing
My last two years of college on full scholarship.
The truth, of course,
Was a much more disastrous affair.
I know that, in large part,
Because I stayed behind in Brooklyn
They didn't go through with the move.
I know my sister still holds that against me,
One of those unspoken resentments between us.

In 2004,
When I became mystery illness sick,
I went to the house with Mommie
For three months.
I walked the paths and roads,
Reliving my childhood
While my body slowly shucked off
The still-unknown malady
That had crippled it.
I personally know about
The healing qualities of that location,
The balm to body and soul provided
At one of my lowest life points.

The house has undergone many transformations,
Thanks to a home improvement grant,
A flood that destroyed much of the interior,
A second home improvement grant,
And the diligent help of friends
Who have kept a caring eye on it
During our absences over the years.
It's winterized.
Someone could occupy it all year long.

Many people have told us,
Especially after Mommie passed,
"You should sell that house.
No one is in it.
It's an albatross."
I must admit I had moments
Where I thought selling it would be best.

Now?
Thank God for the house.
Thank God that we didn't sell it.

Father,
My sister will be up there
Alone
This fall... This winter...
Who ultimately knows for how long.
Draw close to her.
Draw her close to You.
Bring her to whatever comfort she can find
In this home haunted by
Good memories and
Good energies.
Protect the house protecting her:
The heating system,
The roof,
The pipes,
The well,
The septic system,
And everything else needed to
Keep her safe and comfortable.
Show her the beauty found in nature.
Let her meet and connect with
Gentle, noble, honest souls
Who will befriend her,
Making her feel welcome and at ease.

Father,
Adalheid's favorite expression is,
"Everything happens for a reason."
Unfold Your Plans to my sister,
And illuminate her to see
The meaning and purpose behind
This unexpected detour in her life.
I trust You enough to throw
Alot more caution to the wind
Than ever before...
Help me convey and cultivate that
Within her.

Big H...
For so many winters
You have slept.
Awaken, now,
To welcome my sister
To her home...

Runner

Abba,
I spent the better part of my life
Running from my parents,
My sister,
My peers,
And my friends.
I had multiple selves,
Swappable like cell phone casings,
Exchangeable at a moment's notice.

My running days,
By and large,
Are over.
The sensitive, warm, weird, quirky,
Smart, naive, dense, emotional parts of me,
Along with all the other facets
Of my personality,
Are finally melding into a
Cacophonous whole,
Presented for the entire world
To see... And judge.

You have spoken to me
Using Holy Writ.
You have taught me
What really matters,
And this has brought me
To a place of rest:

But the Lord said to Samuel, "Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7)

Abba,
For my friend
Who is figuratively on the run
On multiple fronts,
Give her strength to run towards
The things worth running towards...
Give her peace to stop running from
The elements contributing to her leading
A fragmented life,
However small the cracking is.
Give her discernment and wisdom
To choose to run or stand
As You see fit!...

Petitions for the Year Ahead

Yom Kippur.
The Books close tonight, Lord.
Decrees are being made,
Paths set,
Threads woven
Before the Heavenly Books
Are sealed.

I recall to mind
And bless You for
All the mercies and faithfulness
And kindness and gentleness
You have showered upon my life
This past year.
You brought me to Arizona
And a new, full life there.
You preserved my job,
Enabling me to work remotely.
You opened doors to new friendships,
Most notably with the archer and the songbird.
I feel happy and whole,
Looking forward to each new day.

Lord,
As you set before us
The year ahead,
I humbly petition
For Your mercies to be showered upon
All those near and dear to my heart.
My sister. My aunt. My cousin and her fiancé.
My Adalheid and the king and the wandering momma.
My beloved archer.
The archer's family and friends.
The songbird, the choirs, the music ministries,
And the Mountain View community.
The Aussie. The classified team.
The publishing company as a whole.
Didymus, wherever she may be, and her family.
The manhattanite and her family.
My friends and mentors at New Utrecht.
Everyone's furry or feathered charges.
All those whose lives
Have intersected and are intersecting with mine.

Lord,
Be near me.
Guide me. Enlighten me.
Strengthen me. Embolden me.
Always, always forgive me
When I mess up,
Which is often.

Father,
Enable us to faithfully serve You,
To be Your ambassadors,
Your soldiers, Your children
As we walk upon this broken earth.
Protect and enhance our lives.
Help us help each other,
And see each other through dark times.
Walk in our midst,
Great Redeemer,
And for another year,
Inscribe us, O Lord,
In Your Book of Life!

Mobilization

"Those who do not learn from the past
Are doomed to repeat it."
Oh, how true
THAT expression is.

I remember...
Being that hypersensitive kid,
Always seeking my mother's face
For the subtle -
Or not-so-subtle cues -
That would signal
Her annoyance
Her anger
Her general displeasure.
My mother would work herself up
To the point of literally
Making herself sick.
There would be yelling, followed by
A generalized shutdown
Where she would lock herself away
For hours...
More often, a day or two.

Father, truly,
Has my sister imbibed
That much of the family mishegoss
That she, unwittingly or not,
Is exhibiting the same behavior?
The stewing, brooding, thought patterns...
The perseverating, intrusive thought patterns...
The dramatics. The narcissism.
The self-destruction. The depression.

My aunt is talking about
Reliving her past.
So, too, am I...
Like I've returned
To the scene of a long-forgotten crime...

Father,
You have the ability
To do anything.
Please break through to my sister.
Please make her see that
Now is not the time
To fall over beneath
The weight of her
Fears, doubts, sorrows, hurt, and grief.
Lift her up,
Up and out of the mire she's in.
Give her foresight,
Give her hope,
Give her strength
To get into action and move.
She needs Your Touch
To heal her from the inside out.
Please, my Lord, my King,
Do not let her fall!...

Ruminations on the Passing of a Brooklyn Rose

I place the rose
Upon the casket,
Whispering to its occupant,
"See you soon, my dear."

I weep. I smile.
I marvel at the fullness of life on earth
Led by my sister in Christ.
I laugh, remembering
My own run-ins with her.
I hug many,
The encouraging lights for my life
Found in the hallowed halls
Of New Utrecht.

Lord,
How many more passings,
Until my own?
How many more eulogies,
How many more seeing-offs,
Sending-offs,
Until you call me home?

You have called my parents,
And more people precious to me
Than I can count.
But you have brought me to places
Where I have found other lights
(Your doing, no doubt),
And so there has been a steady stream
Of earthly illumination on my path.
I hear You,
See You
Reflected in the love and warmth
Of so many others.
My life has been truly blessed.
Thank you.

Lord,
Place before me
The path I am to tread,
The lives I am supposed to intersect with,
The ways and means
To do things pleasing to You.
When the time comes
That You speak my name,
And call me to You,
Grant that I may be reunited
With all those lost to me.
Grant that I may once again
See Nanny's radiant smile,
Hear Daddy's high-pitched burst of laughter,
And feel the force of Mommie's embrace.
Grant that what is spoken of me
By the people I will leave behind
Is a simple,
"Thus departs from us
A child of the Most High God!..."

R'tzei

R'tzei Adonai Eloheinu b’amcha yisrael uvit’filatam, v’hasheiv et ha-avodah lidvir
beitecha [v’ishei yisrael] ut’filatam b’ahavah t’kabel b’ratzon, ut’hi l’ratzon tamid
avodat yisrael amecha. V’techezenah eineinu b’shuvcha l’tziyon b’rachamim. Baruch
Atah Adonai, hamachazir sh’chinato l’tziyon.

Accept, Adonai our God, your people Israel and their prayer. And restore the worship to
the inner sanctuary of Your house. [And the fires (offerings) of Israel] and their prayer in
love and favor receive willingly. And may the worship of Your people Israel be ever
acceptable to You. And turn our eyes again to see Your return in mercy to Zion. Blessed are
You, Adonai, who restores the Shechinah to Zion.

In my dreams,
I am at Temple Kol Ami,
At the concert heralding
The start of the High Holy Days.

On the stage stands
The songbird.
Eyes alight,
Her beautiful soprano
Rises up and out,
Washing over me in waves
That bring tears to my eyes.

The dream moves away from
The memories of that night,
And enters the realm of imagination.
The archer stands, walks,
And takes her place next to
The songbird on stage.
Her sweet contralto is a counterpoint,
An anchor against which
The songbird's soprano
Spirals, like the smoke of a burnt offering,
To the heavens.

I stare in bewilderment as,
From out of the shadows of stage right,
Adalheid joins the other two,
And a throaty baritone
Emerges from her lips.
The three strands of voices
Weave like a cord around me,
Enveloping my soul,
Singing in unison the message:

"Come home."

The R'tzei explodes out,
A kaleidoscope of praise and longing
Thundering to the rafters,
To the heavens,
Before the Throne of God.
I ride its wave
Up, and up, and ever up,
Weeping now,
Breaking in two,
Torn between
My own longings
And a compelling sense of duty.

Father,
Gideon asked for signs,
And you provided him several.
Please, I beg you,
Give me a sign.
Give me a few; I'm dense sometimes.
Signal to me
What are the right things to say and do
Moving forward.

The Heavenly Books are open, now, Father.
The decrees are being made for the year ahead:
"Who shall live, and who shall die.
Who shall be impoverished, and who shall be enriched.
Who shall fall and who shall rise.” *
I feel the weight of the next few days upon me.
I feel the weight of my prayers and petitions,
My hopes and dreams and fears,
Rising up
Before Your Throne.

Father, guide my sister
Through this time.
Give her hope; grant her foresight to see through
To the other side of tomorrow.
Let her feel Your Presence,
Your Blessings,
Your Hand in motion upon her life.
You have upheld,
And continue to uphold me.
Grant the same to her.
Give her life, and strength, and
Meaning, and purpose,
And faith, and hope, and love.

Amen, Amen,
A thousand amens before Your Throne,
Restorer of Souls,
Healer of Wounds,
Into Whose Hands
We commit our lives...

* http://www.chabad.org/holidays/JewishNewYear/template_cdo/aid/4762/jewish/What-Is-Rosh-Hashanah.htm

Into the Maelstrom

Jay Street-MetroTech train platform.
Waiting for the R train.
Like I never left Brooklyn.
Like the past six months have been
A phenomenal dream.
I left New York airspace
On March 19th...
I left Arizona airspace
On September 19th,
To return here.

My sister looks like a wraith,
A sunken, beaten-down shadow
Of her former self.
When I walked through the door yesterday,
She clung to me
Like I imagine a drowning man
Would cling to a life raft.

Lord, Lord,
Please.
I need help. I need guidance.
I have NO idea what to do here.

My aunt doesn't want to be burdened by my sister.
Her few friends all live at home with their parents,
So no "moving in with a friend" scenario
Is in the works.
Her ex-fiancé wants her out of his apartment
As soon as possible,
Knowing full well
That she can't support herself financially right now.
We still have the Upstate house,
But that seems too isolated a place
To simply dump her; then what?
She's at rock-bottom depression,
Feeling abandoned and forlorn
And a serious dose of sorry for herself.
I called her at 1 o'clock today
To tell her to get out of bed,
Feed herself and the cats.

"Don't be afraid
To pour yourself out,"
Terry had said.
But Lord,
Where does my responsibility to her end,
And my responsibility to myself begin?
What path do I carve
That lets her know that I love her
And support her,
But that allows me to live my life as well?

Father,
I have been so happy these past six months.
I feel alive inside,
Thinking about the Arizona sun,
The happiness of the people and animals,
The fullness of life being lived out
Within the Mountain View community,
And the loving friendship I have found
With the archer.
Grant that I may return there
With a peaceful conscience,
And the conviction of having made the best choices.

Is that selfish?
Is that wrong?
Am I simply looking out for number one
By saying all this?

Father,
Help me.
Help me
Help her.
Help me navigate through
This emotional maze of
Sorrow and guilt and grief and blame.
Help her get into motion,
And make smart decisions for her life.
Provide for her means and ways
To leave his apartment,
And to feel confident to resume
Normal modes of living.
Help her,
In the same gracious, miraculous ways
That You have intervened and interceded
In my life.
Uphold us,
Embrace us,
Protect us.
Make Your Presence known,
Heavenly Father,
Author Divine!

Ocean's Tide

There she stands,
The archer,
Knee deep in the ocean
As the tide
Ebbs and flows around her.

Ebb and flow,
Ebb and flow,
A slow tumult
Constantly laps at her.

I am sitting on the shore,
Waiting,
Listening to the waves,
Echoes of myself
In the peaks and troughs
Of her tide.

Archer.
My thought goes out to her.
Don't lose your way.
Focus on
The North Star.
He will guide you.

Father,
You are as the earth
Beneath the archer's feet,
And the ocean's current:
Timeless,
Unchanging in overall nature,
Reliable and true,
Encompassing all.
Remind her that no matter what,
You are the Rock,
The Eternal I Am.

As for me,
Here I sit,
Semper fidelis,
As the violinist used to call me.
Braced, vigilant,
I pray for readiness,
Come dead calm
Or deadly storm...

Nightime Conversations With the King

"Blanca."

It's the Anointed One.
"Please leave me alone."
I know He won't,
But it's worth a shot.
I roll over and close my eyes.

"You don't really want me
To leave you alone."

He's right of course.
I nod against the pillows,
Squeezing my eyes shut.

He pets Simba, then asks,
"Is this a pity party of one,
Or can Anyone join?"

I open my eyes,
And wonder what would happen to me
If I just got Him angry enough -

"No," He says aloud.
"I am not here to smite you."

"Elijah prayed for death." *
If Elijah could, why can't I?

"Yes, and instead,
He was strengthened
And journeyed to Mount Horeb,"
He reminds me.

Hmmm... I had forgotten
That part of the story.

He sits by my feet and waits.

I ask,
"Did You visit the archer at church yesterday?"

"Yes."

"And You gave her those messages?"

"Yes."
Pause.
"Does the content of the messages disturb you?"
He returns.

"Disturb me!"
I shove my face into the pillow.

"The messages weren't delivered to you,"
He reminds me.

"I understand that,
But the relevance was there regardless!"
I describe the burning, searing sensation
As text after text ignited through me,
A wildfire of being convicted in the Spirit
Of the very thing that I had known all along,
And had tried to sidestep and avoid.

He nods.  His face is not unkind.
I suddenly remember that I am talking to Someone
Who did come here in the flesh,
And did share in all the day-to-day sufferings of humans.

I forge ahead.
"I don't understand
Why I am the way I am.
The very components that comprise my nature
Constantly work against me.
I'm intense. I'm passionate. I'm emotional.
I'm stubborn. I'm willful.
I'm constantly probing, and questioning,
And pestering You every ten minutes asking why,
Or more accurately in this situation,
Why not?"

There is an extended pause.
Finally He replies,
"Yes, you are all those things,
But you don't see the purpose for them
That I do.
Your intensity keeps
The fire lit inside of you.
Your passion makes you love deeply,
Without being afraid to pour yourself out.
You're emotional so that you empathize with
And have compassion for
People from all walks of life.
Your stubbornness, under the right circumstances,
Blossoms into loyalty.
Your willfulness, under the right circumstances,
Makes you naturally tenacious.
As for your questioning,
I am the one who coined the expression
'Seek, and ye shall find.' **
It's when you persist
Because you don't like the answer given
That it becomes an issue.

"Blanca, all these things, in and of themselves,
Are not inherenetly bad.
It's in the improper manifestation of them
That they can work against you. 
Learning how and when and how much
Is a lifelong process."

I sigh.
I've been doing that an awful lot these days.

He continues,
"In all of this,
You have not thought to ask
What my Father's Will is.
There's a reason why the Scripture verse says
'Seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven.'
The vertical alignment happens first.
Then comes the horizontal alignment."

I picture two intersecting paths and realize
That He just drew
A cross in my mindspace.
I shudder, feeling the weight of aeons
Of Supreme Sovereignty
Sitting with me.

"You still have so much to learn
About grace versus willpower,
And grace versus self-reliance,
And faith versus rebelling,
And faith versus pursuing
Your own pleasures and desires."

He's not harsh or bitter saying this to me.
He doesn't even sound disappointed.
He's got that tone of a parent who has,
Finally, broken through to
A difficult, hard-to-reach kid.

It's true,
And I know it's true,
But it still hurts to hear anyway.

"Calling upon me as Savior
Is not the same as
Calling upon me as Lord,"
He tells me.
I have to let that realization
Sink in a bit.
My English major brain dissects the words,
Seeing His Sacrifice in the first title,
And my relinquishment of self to Him
In the second.

"I never said that sanctification
Would be easy,"
He reminds me.

"No? The word 'cakewalk'
Doesn't appear anywhere in the Bible?"
Now I'm being silly,
Because I'm pretty much overcome
By yesterday and today,
And only sheer absudity will keep me
From complete meltdown. 

He smiles.
"Memorize Psalm 100,"*** He suggests.
"Four verses in total.
It struck a chord with you earlier."

Said chord resulted in me crying,
Reading that psalm
Over and over and over...

He rises to leave. Simba purrs.

As He's turning the corner of the door,
He looks back, and quotes Jeremiah 29:11 -
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
Plans for welfare and not for evil,
To give you a future and a hope."

I groan inwardly.
It is the archer's verse.

"Blanca."
His tone is very soft now,
Very gentle.
I nod in reply.
I'm beyond speaking.

"I have a verse specifically for you.

"Behold,"
He's quoting Scripture again,
And the sound of His Voice is suddenly
Commanding,
Arresting,
Like the bells of Notre Dame,
Quaking through me,
Making me sick and dizzy
From the Power behind them.
"I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?"
I shake my head no.
"I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert." ****

And He has spoken through me,
Through to the fears and longings
Of where my life's path will lead,
And will it ever intersect with another's,
Or am I destined to live
A single, celibate life
In service to God and man?...

God only knows.

... It's a comfort that Someone does...


*1 Kings 19
**Matthew 7:7

*** Psalm 100

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!

Serve the Lord with gladness!

Come into his presence with singing!

Know that the Lord, he is God!

It is he who made us, and we are his;

we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving,

and his courts with praise!

Give thanks to him; bless his name!

For the Lord is good;

his steadfast love endures forever,

and his faithfulness to all generations.

****Isaiah 43:19

In The Desert

On my bike. 2 pm.
It's 100 degrees
Beneath the Phoenix sun.

I am pedaling faster and faster
Around the Elliot-Warner Loop,
Trying to outrun You,
Trying to outrun myself.

I haven't actively listened to music
Since yesterday.
I have no desire
To finish tuning my guitar,
Or to practice "Here I Am Lord"
On the keyboard,
Or to read the documents
The bell choir director gave me to read.

Everything I touch is charged,
Wounding me -
Scripture *, devotionals, articles online,
The whole lot.
Everywhere I look is a land mine,
Sending emotional shrapnel
Through my heart.

The despair in me is so thick,
I can taste it.

I am angry, and hurt,
And feel trapped from within and without.
Although I am merely the pot,
I ask You, Potter,
Why have you made me thus?
Am I to be
A vessel for dishonorable use? **
Should a millstone be hung about me,
Dragging me to the sea's bottom? ***

I see no way out of this barren place.

ARGH, Holy Writ, get out of my head!
Leave me be!
But no, no...
Isaiah smashes through me, now, ****
And I am so messed up, God,
SO MESSED UP!

Is this the stronghold I wrote about in June
That needed tearing down?
Is this the tippity-top of that stronghold,
The mere beginning of many more
Transformations to come?...

* For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. (Hebrews 4:12)

** Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? (Romans 9:21)

*** And he said to his disciples, "Temptations to sin are sure to come, but woe to the one through whom they come! It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were cast into the sea than that he should cause one of these little ones to sin. (Luke 17:1, 2)

**** ...and let not the eunuch say,
    “Behold, I am a dry tree.”
For thus says the Lord:
“To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,
    who choose the things that please me
    and hold fast my covenant,
I will give in my house and within my walls
    a monument and a name
    better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
    that shall not be cut off. (Isaiah 56: 3b-5)

The Set Up

Only You
Are able to pursue me
Using Scripture
And song
And the Aussie
And books.

A little early-morning slapping around
With the September 3rd devotional
From My Utmost for His Highest
Never killed anyone, eh?

So, is that what I'm guilty of,
Among other things?

I withdraw my hand
From this loaded game of poker.
I'm not playing this game
Any more.

The Mole

So, Lord,
What's the best way
To get to me?

Send in a mole
(Albeit, an unwitting one)
To enter into my heart,
My confidences,
And all the deep recesses of me.
Then,
Once inside,
Use her to break me
(Albeit unwittingly).

Clever!
Much more effective
Than anything I could have
Come up with,
Even in my most self-destructive moments!

Hearing Your Word
Was a hundred thousand times worse
Than hearing it from her.

I'm throwing my hands up in the air.
Surrendering. Done.
Despairing now.
Not caring if that's a problem or not.
Convicted by the Spirit
From over two thousand miles away,
I relinquish all things, even hope.

A and B

A, A sharp, and B
The notes on the big bells
That I suddenly find myself
Playing in bell choir

The suggestion to join
Came from three different sources,
So I took that to mean
That maybe this was something
You wanted me to do.

Of course.
MORE involvement in the church,
So that now when I want to flee,
I can't, right?

A and B.
A is for...
Aberration - I feel like one right now
Abomination - judgment pronounced against many behaviors,
Including the thoughts in my head
Angry - yes, I'm that, specifically at You
Agitated - yes, I'm that, also at You
Arrogant - yes, I suppose, based on me even
Having this kind of dialogue with You.

B is for...
Broken - how I feel inside right now
Bound - tied up in things I don't know
How to break free of
Beaten up - see broken, above
Beleaguered - too many years of struggling
With this inner demon
Beaten - I'm done. I'm just... done.

...

A is for...
Abundant - the kind of life You have promised us.

B is for...
Blessed - to be called a child of the Most High and Holy God

A and B,
Chiming in my head,
Ringing death knells,
And songs of deliverance...