Ritagail's Refuge for Moderate Catholics, exAsperated Aspies, Creative Mystics, and Reluctant Hermits

Prayer when you're just plain danged "wrong"

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 09:42:33 -0600

Well, as Catholics, we ain't spozed to say "Yahweh" anymore, or sing it, because it offends some of our Jewish neighbors, which, in their behalf they have been maligned more than most folks. However, in addressing God in the following poem, I realized that, by not using "Jehovah", I'll probably offend my Jehovah's Witness neighbors, of whom some of my relatives and the Pope's cousin are among. And, if use the word "Jehovah", I'll offend certain rabid Christians and several Jesus only persons. So, if you dare, put whatever word you want to use for the Almighty Over Us All Humans Ain't All There Is Creative Spirit (meaning Whom we are addressing) and pray it along with me:

LORDGOD:
I'm sorry.
And, I'm not even sure what I'm sorry
For.
Just have this general sense that I'm
Wrong.
Wrong wrong long wrong
Oh so very wrong.
I'm sorry.
In Jesus' Name
I pray.

Creatively Breaking a Chair (poem)

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 11:04:07 -0600

Creatively Breaking a Chair

What a wonderful thing
To be creative
It's such a joy.
I'd been anticipating
For weeks on a fabric project
And, Oh Boy!
Finally all the elements were in place.
And, let me tell you,
I desperately needed this grace.
After the old printer went down,
I dusted off an even older one,
Bought a new ink cartridge...ok...
Bought chemicals to soak fabric...double ok...
Soaked and dried the fabric according to plan,
Then, after dealing with the parish
Bull-
etin and ministry schedule merry-go-round,
I leisurely ironed my treated fabric.
Let me tell you, that muslin was smooth,
The smell of the iron, the feel of the glide,
The anticipation of printing and quilting
Images from my own little mind...
Bliss.

What's This?

Very little ink on the test page.

Impossible--it worked only the other day.

Eventually, ink went from near-none to nil.
Disbelief and Dissapointment, words never will
Describe what I was sensing at the time--
I screamed.

Hubby entered the room just in time to see
My water bottle sailing through the air to the far wall--
Didn't even have the decency to break.
"It doesn't print?" ventured he.
"No, not at all."
"Don't they have the cartridges at Wal-mart?"
Wrong thing to ask.
"No You Idiot!!!" came out of my mouth at last.
He went safely to his room leaving me to deal
With myself, my printer, and the whole cast
Of Wonderful Creative Projects that now never will.

After several more minutes and futile attempts,
Into beloved hubby's room I crept.
"I'm sorry I called you an Idiot," I say.
He simply said, "That's ok."
I continue to explain the details of what it takes
To get the ink and how much and how now I'll have to wait...
Again.

Calmed down a bit,
Glad I hadn't thrown even more of a fit,
I go to the computer and trustingly sit.
And THAT'S when the chair did what the water bottle would not--
Break--
Throwing me awkwardly to the floor, producing a quake
Of other things falling on top of me,
Again I scream, and hubby came running to see.
My hand hurt but I yelled, "I'm ok!"
He helped me up, and, after some ice on my hand
I was able to say:
"Now...that chair breaking that way just isn't right,
If I'd have known it was going to go,
Could've at least thrown it at the printer with all of my might,
Then both out the window to give the neighbors a show!"

(Ah! the creative life is such bliss.
That's why hubby stays in his room, quite safe from all of this.)

(In case there is any doubt, meself wrote this. --rgcb)

Let Us Pray. Let Us Change.

Fri, 4 Jul 2008 13:40:16 -0600

I live
In the United States of America.
Today,
People will celebrate
Noisily
Our rebellious separation
That we call the pursuit of happiness.
I'll give my nation credit for this:
When it comes to having a
Party,
Especially one where noise and powder dust
And food and drink and power lust
Abound,
We unite.

The majority of us, not all.

And so, I reflect this day:
I live in a country
Di
Vi
Ded.

I live in a country where great opportunities abound,
But also where despair and poverty may be found,
Sometimes a mere few blocks away
From where wealthier persons gather to pray.

I live in a country that prides
Itself in promoting equality,
But also in a country that hides
That equality is in appearance only.
We may be getting past the colors of skin,
But not the colors, cuts, and tags of the clothes we're in.

I live in a country reportedly
Class-free,
But also where I'm judged by the shoes on my feet,
The car I can't afford,
The non-existent hairstyle,
And the lack of medical card.

I live in a country with military might,
Nobody can outdo our young people in a fight,
But also where peace takes a back seat to war,
Where our young people come home
Not sure how to live any more...
Proclaiming them "heroes"
We don't listen to what they really know.

I live in a country where education is touted,
But also where creativity is only acknowledged
After suffocating obstacles are surmounted
(Some die under all the pressure,
Their creative works destroyed, lost, or,
Sold
At outlandish prices--after their death).

I live in a country that worships technology,
But also where farmers' grandchildren
Are forced to leave fields--hired out to profitable companies.

I live in a country that trusts in God,
But only the
Right
God.
And which One that is, we can't seem to agree,
Not even among Righteous Christianity.
Yet, we look on in horror when Muslim kills Muslim,
Not realizing we kill each other's spirits
Daily.

I live in a nation where we
Unite
By sleeping in severe denial,
Awaking only briefly in communal trials,
While Reality is left to we poetic souls
Who are told to
Shut
Up
With our tales of woe.
Yet,
Secretly, we all suspect
What the poet writes is closer to
True,
And, we are worried about the future
Fireworks
That may explode
Among those of us who live here
Under the Red, White and Blue.

St. Paul, Gospel, Resurrection

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 13:12:26 -0600

(Scripture quotes are from the New American Bible, copyright held by Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, at least, that's what it says in the front of my Bible.)

If you've read some of my ramblings, you know that one thing that breaks my heart is the question of what to do about (to put it delicately) Christians who act in less than a Christian manner, doing things to promote themselves in the Name of Jesus Christ that appear to be no more than worldly business tactics.

While reading Philippians, help arrived from a very unexpected source, St. Paul. Yeah, the guy whose writing is used by the overwhelming majority of Christianity to lock in their versions of rules and regulations. The guy who got struck down blind by the Resurrected Jesus Christ and ended up writing letters that Christians have since used to divide themselves over anything and everything. In Philippians, he's sitting in prison, and he writes these words, emphases are mine:

"Of course, some preach Christ from envy and rivalry, others from good will. The latter act out of love, aware that I am here for the defense of the gospel; the former proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not from pure motives, thinking that they will cause me trouble in my imprisonment. What difference does it make, as long as in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is being proclaimed? And in that I rejoice." (Chapter 1, verses 15-18)

It's a good thing I was sitting down when I read this, because the reading of it hit me with a spiritual force. Here is St. Paul, the greatest evangelist the Church has ever known, the Fireball of Heaven, admitting that others are preaching Jesus for their own gain, even admitting they might be doing it just to hurt him personally, and, Dear Neighboring Cellmate Paul, as I've come to know him, basically says, "Let them."

What???!!!

Paul! What about Justice, what about Truth, what about Scandal and people who get their hearts broken and their faith crushed because of these persons who claim to be Christian, even Christian leaders-be they lay or ordained?

Paul quietly says, "Let them be."

As I was arguing this point with Paul, I remembered Jesus' teaching on the Tares (Weeds) and the Wheat. That parable is Matthew 13:24-30. Jesus says that the landowner tells the workers that the enemy has sowed the seeds of the weeds among the wheat, the workers themselves are not responsible. When the workers ask if they should pull up the weeds, the landowner replies, "No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest, then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters, 'First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning, but gather the wheat into my barn'."

Jesus echoes Paul's remedy: "Leave them alone."

Why?

Evidently because the removal of persons who seem to be working for their own gain may hurt the Church. Disillusionment comes to mind, as I've personally had to work through that, more than once. But, it's also possible that God's mercy is awaiting persons who preach God's Gospel to convert before they leave this current life, in hopes that they will not condemn themselves in the next life. And so, God's Mercy on both the faithful and the self-indulged requires that both grow together in this life...in this Faith.

Jesus knew that this was going on in our "parent" religion, Judaism, and, Paul tells us that it was already present in the first days of Christianity. And both Jesus and Paul teach us to leave it alone, keeping our eyes on Jesus, not on the sins of others.

This can be a very hard teaching, particularly if we are in places where our leaders are openly flaunting their desires to pursue their own visions of religious glory on the face of this earth, on this side of the Resurrection. But, if we are to allow God to develop our maturity in the Christian faith, it is a teaching we must ask God to help us understand and to give us peace within ourselves with it. (As well as pray for the conversion of us ALL. And, this doesn't mean that we won't struggle, deal with anger, and, especially with heartbreak/grief.)

Of course, I'm guessing from both Jesus' example and Paul's, there are times when we are to express who and what is less than God's example for us. I'm specifically thinking of St. Paul in 2 Timothy 4:9-18, where he names the names of persons who have done him wrong. I don't think Jesus and Paul are telling us to simply roll over and play dead, so to speak, I DO think they are telling us that this is going to happen, that our Faith will always be infiltrated until the End Day, and that, with the full knowledge of this, we are to confidently walk in the Faith towards our Resurrected Jesus Christ.

Resurrection. Why am I using that word so much? Back to Philippians, where Paul says he is in prison for his proclamation of the gospel, I asked myself, What did Paul consider to be the gospel? Immediately, I thought of "death, burial, resurrection". Yes. "God loves us." Yes. But, what was it Paul considered to be the gospel? I started getting an idea from reading more of his prison letters, and then I read the accounts of his defenses in the Book of Acts. While it appears that part of the reason Paul had irritated the Jewish leaders was that he had proclaimed Faith to non-Jewish persons (Acts 22:21-22), when Paul gets to court he states that he is "on trial for hope in the resurrection of the dead" (Acts 23:6).

While it appears that he may have said this to pit the two main rival groups against themselves, one group believed in resurrection and the other didn't, personally I think that would be trivializing the resurrection as the main reason for Paul's defense. Later, in Acts 24:10-21, Paul makes it very clear that he is on trial because of his faith in the resurrection, and, in Acts 26:1-23, Paul relates his experience with the Resurrected Jesus, ending with: "But I have enjoyed God's help to this very day, and so I stand here testifying to small and great alike, saying nothing different from what the prophets and Moses foretold, that the Messiah must suffer and that, as the first to rise from the dead, he would proclaim light both to our people and to the Gentiles."

Immediately, he is proclaimed "Mad". Usually, we are told he was in trouble because he allowed the Gentiles in to the Jewish community. That might be a legitimate reading, but, as I'm reading many Scriptures together, it seems to me that if this would have been their main complaint, something would have been said in the little discussion afterwards among the noble persons, including King Agrippa saying to Paul, "You will soon persuade me to play the Christian." (Acts 26:28) As I read it in light of other Scriptures, Paul is in trouble because of his proclamation of the Resurrected Christ, of a resurrection for us all, of his conviction that this life is not all there is, that there is a hope of life after the grave.

What does it mean to believe in the Resurrection? DO we believe it? Truly?

Jesus says to Martha (John 11:25,26): "I am the resurrection and the life, whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"

Do we believe this? Or, is it simply a verse of comfort to be read at a funeral?

Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:12-19:

"But if Christ is preached as raised from the dead, how can some among you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then neither has Christ been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then empty (too) is our preaching; empty, too, your faith. Then we are also false witnesses to God, because we testified against God that he raised Christ, who he did not raise if in fact the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain; you are still in your sins. Then those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are the most pitiable people of all."

And then comes verse 20: "But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep."

I suggest reading the rest of chapter 15. One verse that is frequently taken out of context to prove Christian "victory" over many material things and persons is verse 57: "But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." That verse, in my loud mouth opinion, should never be separated from the preceding verse, 56, because it is towards the end of Paul's discourse on resurrection, the two together state that Paul's "victory" is God's resurrecting power over death (brought on by human sin): "The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

There you have it, the gospel isn't about rules, regulations, liturgy, dress codes, social justice, etc. It is about God's Love to humanity in becoming one of us and destroying the power of sin/death by giving us a resurrected life after this one. This life we now endure, sometimes painfully, is not the "end". The Church can never build a glorious empire, even if it is for God, on the face of this planet, this side of the Resurrection. We sometimes forget that, and need to be reminded. The Good News isn't in this lifetime, it's in the next. (Although, it begins in this lifetime-you can see why Paul had such a hard time wording things and perhaps felt like he was foolish in the many words he used. It's a concept that is difficult to express.)

WHEN we become firm in our knowledge, hope, and faith, of Eternal Life, we then attempt to live in a manner pleasing to God with as much energy as we can in this current life. Even if that means allowing others their lofty goals of building their own vision of Eternity in this life.

This may be the dividing line between Faith and Religion. Faith sees beyond Death to Resurrection. Religion can see life only as living currently on this side of Death.

I suppose that human existence requires some balance of both. That's probably the hard part. It is, perhaps, even where religious/political warring takes place.

May God grant us unity in God's Resurrection.

Is it Asperger's?/Our Society/Churches

Wed, 4 Jun 2008 09:12:27 -0600

This is a kind of "houscleaning" essay. I will try to keep it brief. It repeats a few things that I've written here before. I am also cross posting it to the site where I have my poems about Asperger's.

The past several months I have found out more family information about the time period when I was very young. If you've been reading my blog, you know that I re-evaluated the scar on my lip and the story that proved I wasn't normal. I won't write specifics here, but, I now know that during the time when a very young child is developing language and social skills, I was "cloaked" in an effort to protect my Mother and I from my Father. Unfortunately, the two of us returned to him and his problems became our life.

And now, as a grandmother watching my grandchildren grow, without the fears and stresses of motherhood, I realize much of what I encountered was due to core family problems and isolation. And being left alone to survive such a life.

I am so grateful for those times when I was able to be around my grandparents, both sides, especially my paternal grandparents' farm, but also my maternal great-grandmother's indoor plants and her salt and pepper shaker collection, and her not insisting that I join in the adult conversation.

I write. I read. I suppose in these days' standards, that in itself is going to become a marker for being too internal, and, therefore, suspect to being on the autistic spectrum/Asperger's. We are facing a time when anyone who is more "thinker/scholar" than "social" is going to be slapped with a label. Maybe that time is already here.

And, the question is, is this really autism/Asperger's, or, is it merely the development of our society towards verbal speech/entertainment and outer appearances as the desirable (and only) way of being human?

I've been reading a book about Emily Dickinson and her gardens. I can't recall the exact title now, but if I remember right, the author is Judith Farr. (I'm at the library typing this and the book is at home.) While I am not the perfectionist she was reputed to be (although others say I am...trust me, I'm not...before I can get the minute detail perfect, my interest/focus times out), we seem to share similar traits--including her family being embarrassed by her. One of the author's suggestions in the book I'm reading is that Emily had a realization, around the age or 28 or 29, that she was a poet, and that's when she began writing with more purpose, although in her lifetime she was more known for her gardening.

Well, I was going to write that if Emily Dickinson is Asperger's, then I guess I would be too, forgetting that she is included in the list of famous Asperger's persons. I just did a search "emily dickinson asperger's" and a whole bunch of articles arrived. Here is one, use the "find" function to see her name and a few others: http://www.aane.org/about_asperger_syndrome/what_is_asperger_syndrome.html

Well, that kind of messes up the rest of what I was going to write...how it is society and churches that need to change and accept those of us who are more internally driven, which I believe, but, I thought her name wouldn't come up in the "list". I don't know why I forgot that. Probably because she seems more normal to me than the "normal" people who keep trying to tell me there's something wrong with me!

Hm. Well, I guess this could solve my dillemma of if I should take advantage of programs/services for autistic/Asperger's persons. Aintcha glad you're reading this???

Don't worry. I too have accepted that I am a writer, mostly poet(ess) and I am writing myself into a contented poetic state that rivals the most beautiful gardens....as well as trying to grow a few plants in these Oklahoma rains, drawing, and photography.

Thanks for reading.

I wrote this without benefit of a spell checker, so please disregard any errors.

Mary poem cycle

Thu, 29 May 2008 21:44:00 -0600

In some traditions, May is the month of Mary, Mother of Jesus. It ends with remembering Mary's visit to Elizabeth, called the Visitation. I started this cycle of poems while pondering the Spirit, Pentecost, and Mary being present with the Disciples as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. Unlike some converts, a sentimental tender view of Mary has never developed for me. I guess it's safe to say Mary and I aren't "close". Tomorrow, we remember the Sacred Heart of Jesus, something that HAS developed as a sentimentality for me. If you read the last poem, you will find that I was surprised while writing.

Some of you may be offended by this poem cycle. Traditional Catholics may think I have "humanized" Mother Mary too much. Non-Catholics may think the opposite, that I've placed too much emphasis on her. I apologize to neither extreme.

I am "quick posting" these on my blog. They may find a more permanent home on my site later. For now, if you wish to share, you can use the "permalink" found at the end of the post.

Thanks for reading.

*************************************
Morning After

And so,
Here I am.
I said,
"Let it be...
According to God's Will"
For, am I not Jehovah's
Daughter?
But, daylight seeps
All around me-
To Whom did I say
"Yes"
?
O God-
What have I done?

*************************************

Confirmation

Cousins.
So many.
How do we keep track
Of who married who
On whose side-
"O Yes," the women nod,
"That's right, she married him
And he was the son of her
And she was the daughter of him
And they lived down there
Over the way,
Until they had to move,
Wasn't that a shame,
And then they lived for a long time
With no children
And now there are rumors..."
Will Elizabeth ever know
She has this cousin Mary?
Door ajar-
"How is it that the mother
Of my Lord comes to visit me?
Blessed is she who
Believes."

(last quote from the book of Luke)

*************************************

Fears

But,
Elizabeth-
Joseph.
What do I say to Joseph?
And the wedding,
There will be no grand
Wedding
Now.
Hushed wedding.
Whispers all over town.
O Elizabeth,
What
Will I say to Joseph?
"Nothing.
In your silence
God
Will speak."

*************************************

Two in Starlight

Joseph?
Are you disappointed?
Joseph?
Did I hear-
Singing?
Choruses, no, I must have been
Delirious
From the birthing.
Joseph?
Is that the donkey
Or your whiskers
Nuzzling my hair?
Joseph?
Were there shepherds here?
Joseph?
Oh-
You're holding the baby.
I was afraid
You were gone.

*************************************

It Begins

How quickly
Joy
Can turn to
Sorrow.
I bring my baby to the Temple
Offer him to God,
Everyone has to hold him,
Some declaring him Messiah.
Messiah!
I can't enjoy the smallness of
His little fingers and toes?
The way his eyes focus and follow,
Oh, yes, the older women tell me that
No
Baby can focus and follow this early
In life,
But my little Jesus does.
Yes, you do.
Oh my little son,
Who
Are you?

*************************************

Continuum

In Nazareth,
Joseph has set up shop.
Egypt-I was
So
Glad
To leave Egypt.
Back among our own people.
Talk.
Unceasing talk.
About the Romans,
About the corrupted officials
And priests
And divisions over teachers.
No more
Talk
Of stars
And shepherds
And secret emissaries from afar.
Look at Jesus
Mimicking Joseph.
Please, God,
No more night visitors-
Just let me soak in
The jabbering
Of my people.

*************************************

Mother Knows

Do you know
How frantic I've been
Trying
To find you?
Searching for you?
Calling your name?
Your father-Joseph-
He can barely talk,
His throat so raw
From calling your name.
Jesus!
What did you think you were doing?
The Teachers!
What is more important, your family,
Or,
Making an impression on the Teachers?
Let them impress themselves.
Is this what you were born for-
O Son!
The way you look at me.
Yes, I know.
Soon. Too soon, you must take your place here.
But not right now.
Come, Joseph is waiting for us.

*************************************

Joseph Departs

Silence.
Such silence.
No more pounding and scraping, and
Talking
Of how to fit one piece of wood
To another
And how good the grain feels,
How it becomes a miracle
From tree to useful vessel.
Silence.
There should be wailing.
Even Jesus is silent.
Too silent.
My heart fears for his
Silence.

*************************************

Waters

I knew this day would come.
I've known since that
Day
In the Temple.
In silence,
Jesus wandered off
To find
His cousin John.
John was never the same
After
His aged parents died.
Kept to himself.
Started preaching and baptizing
Ranting like a madman,
They say.
Jesus sought him out.
On this day,
Nothing
Will be the same.

*************************************

Nudging

Look at him.
Still broody.
Thinner.
He and his cousin
And that wilderness of theirs.
That wildness of theirs.
A wildness unnatural to young people.
Yet all too natural to God.
Son, they have no wine.
"So?"
You come to a wedding party,
You've stepped into a new wilderness.
Now,
Continue what God sparked in you,
Or did the waters of baptism
Flood out that flame?
(Such a look my son gives me!)
Do whatever he tells you.
Silence
Will soon be
Broken.

*************************************

Empty Nest

Teaching.
Always the
Teaching.
And debating.
And healing.
They say.
I wouldn't know.
He traded his silence
For wandering words
Of fulfilling his Father's will.
Will
He come home
Again-
Ever?
What have I done?
Again,
O God,
What have I done?

*************************************

Angel-less Night

So it's come to this.
And will they still call out
"Messiah"?
No.
My people
Have always turned quickly,
One extreme to another.
But so do the Romans,
I hear,
Killing each other over
Power.
Turning,
Always turning on each
Other.
Look at the men fleeing,
Scattering.
All terrified.
Where
Are their miracles
Now?
Where
Is my little Jesus
Now?
Where
Is God and His bright angel
Now?

*************************************

Music Fades

There, there,
My son.
It's over.
You were announced.
You lived.
You laughed, cried, sang, danced, shouted, taught, healed-
Died.
"Come, Mother,'
John tells me.
I can't.
I must hold him.
He's still warm.
I must wipe the blood,
O the blood.
His heart
His dear gentle fiery heart.
So still.
Silence-
Again.
I'm so weary of this Godly silence!
I'd scream
If I could.
"Come, Mother,"
John tells me.
I look back.
Such silence in his
Heart.

*************************************

Private Scene

What.
Who's there?
Not another angel!
John! John!
"What's for supper?"
How can this be?
"Isn't that what you asked
The angel
Some thirty-odd years ago?
Mama,
It's me."
But,
I was there,
I saw you,
I held you,
There was blood,
So much blood,
You died,
I know,
A mother knows these things,
You died.
"Yes."
But-how...
"God and I are One.
Haven't you listened to me?"
Well, maybe if you'd come
Home
To your mother more often,
Maybe if you'd stay for supper
Once
In awhile
Instead of running off to some
Wild Place to...
He laughs.
O, he laughs!
It IS
Him.
No one laughs like my
Jesus.

*************************************

Another Beginning

He told me goodbye.
Asked me to be with them
On the feast day.
As if they would leave me
Alone
Now...
They think of me as some
Relic.
"Can we do this for you Mother?"
And,
"Please let us do that for you Mother."
God takes my son and grants me
Such a
Glorious
Grace of being the esteemed mother of them all.
Sigh.
And now, we've all been burned.
"Filled with the Spirit"
They call it.
Such shouting and jubilation!
It will all change to
Silence
Again, I'm afraid.
But look at them now-
"Can you feel it, Mother?"
They ask me.
Yes, I nod,
Knowing the fiery Spirit
Will be needed to
Blaze
Jesus' message through thousands
Of tear-stained pages and years.

*************************************

Presence

And now it is time
For my silence.
They gather around me
Singing,
Weeping,
Praying.
"Mother, don't leave us too."
My body is worn out-
No, don't call Peter-
John, where's John?
Stay by me.
Don't revive me.
Let me go to where the angels sing
Around a throne
So bright only my little lamb, my-
Jesus!
And there he is again,
Whispering,
"Mama"-
What is this my eyes behold?
Am I dead
Or
More alive
Than before?

*************************************

What Mama Asks

My children,
You still call to me.
Somehow,
God lets me hear you.
God has let me visit
At times
To speak to you.
But, are you listening?
When I tell you to pray to my son
Jesus,
Do you listen?
Is it Him enthroned
In your hearts?
Do you still not understand
That Jesus
And the Father
And the Spirit
Are One
And that He calls you-
Begs you-
Into the same
Oneness
With Him,
With each other,
Within yourselves.
My children,
You cry to me,
But you can never be
Fulfilled
Until you rest in
His Sacred Heart-
The only Heart that burns
With a singular flame
Of love for you.

*************************************

Pics of green moth

Mon, 5 May 2008 12:30:33 -0600

Am at the library, have just enough time to post this. Dont' know what kind of moth it is, but it's gorgeous. Was on the side of our garage yesterday.

Holy Spirit Novena--Pentecost will be here soon

Fri, 2 May 2008 15:30:30 -0600

Holy Spirit Novena resources

Pentecost is May 11. A novena to the Holy Spirit is praying for nine days prior to the feast of Pentecost, which would start today, Friday, May 2. And, no, you do not have to be Catholic to pray such a thing. In fact, I invite all of us to pray together during this nine/ten days to beg God to pour out the gifts and blessings of the Holy Spirit on and into us all.

Here are two websites for a novena:

Holy Spirit novena:

http://www.jesuslistens.com/holyspirit.html

St. Edith Stein's beautiful Holy Spirit poem:

http://www.ewtn.com/Devotionals/novena/Stein_spirit.htm

(St. Edith Stein was a Jewish convert who died in the Nazi concentration camps. Her name as a Carmelite nun was Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. It's at EWTN, who I know can sometimes come across as superior to others in their views, but, the poem is really beautiful and I think it's a good one to spend time with in prayer, and, it's good of EWTN to have it on their site.)

Rethinking Labels/The Secret Garden Principle

Thu, 1 May 2008 13:19:50 -0600

(Pre-essay note: You may be wondering why I haven't been posting. I've had "computer equipment failure/difficulties", and, in spite of my practical judgment, I hacked through lawn so that I have 8 beds/patches for flowers, 1 for veggies and strawberries. I am keeping an offline journal of the actual gardening, but also of my thoughts, poetry, imagery, etc. during this growing season. I haven't decided yet how much to post from that. The following essay is technically a part of it, as it is written during this growing season.)

This is the essay that I know I have to write, but don't want to. I have pared it down for this post, the original will stay in my private journal.

WHY I AM WRITING THIS

This essay idea has been rattling around inside of me for several weeks. I've held off writing because I was afraid I would be the only one it would benefit, that it would be a selfish thing to do. I'm also afraid that some family members, even church members, will not only be hurt, but will be outraged. However, today a person wrote me, and once again I had the realization that my life situation, while perhaps not too common, isn't unique, and, perhaps what I have to say will benefit somebody else. It may be that my experience isn't meant to be kept to myself. It may be that not sharing my experience and how I am getting through it would be the most selfish deed of all.

AFTERMATH OF THE TOMBSTONE

(For those of you who don't know, my Mother had carved on hers and Dad's tombstone, when Dad died summer 2006, a phrase that makes it look like I am dead, and I've heard that she continues to tell people that I'm not me, that her daughter is dead.)

I've spent decades loathing myself, searching for what is "wrong" with me. Various Christian denominations have told me that the correct combination of Christian living and following God's Will, will save my parents, myself, my husband and children and bring prosperity. Love and Right Living (holiness) will not only conquer all but will also make my life more comfortable.

Standing before that tombstone, none of that materialized. And none of it has materialized since, even though I've been trying to do the "Christian thing" in this circumstance.

Every single thing I had kept myself from doing in the Name of God haunted me. For months, I wanted to die and wished I'd had the guts to do something vengeful. It's a terrible thing to have to ask yourself and God if you should have taken matters into your own hands when you were younger, when it would have been considered "justifiable". Would my life have been better? Would Mom and I have had a relationship? If not, would I at least be free of this burden of thinking it's my responsibility to fix the relationship?

If I'd at least broke off all contact with family members when I married my husband, and not had the burden to go to church, would I have been a better mother and wife, not desperately trying to figure out the relationship with my parents, with what is wrong with me, with not searching for "God's Will" and with not dragging my dear husband and two sons through various denominations?

What would my life have been like if I hadn't searched for family, love, and God?

Has my life been a waste?

THE MAIN RECENT EVENTS THAT CAUSED MY CHANGE IN THOUGHT ABOUT MYSELF

1. I'd probably better not post publicly details of some family information, however, I think it's ok to say generally that when a child is around a year old, developing language and attachments to others, events can happen that cause many extended members of the family to know what happened, but their silence on the matter leaves the child not only struggling through developmental stages, but leaves the child wondering far into adulthood what is "wrong" with itself. Good, Christian people sometimes don't know how to handle domestic violence, particularly in the early 1960's. I suppose keeping quiet and hoping things will get better...praying things will get better...is all that could have been done. But it certainly leaves terrible scars and messy lives. Perhaps it is ok that I didn't know the depth of this time period until now.

2. I have a scar on my lower lip. My mother used this scar to tell others how odd and klutzy I was. The story goes that I was around age 2 and was so odd as to want to share a toy with a girl who was visiting next door (2 year olds don't share, my mother insists), and, in being so overexcited and such a klutz, I ran smack into the wall and busted my lip open. I've always been ashamed of my scar. It's been the reminder of how stupid and klutzy I am. Then, this year, I got to visit my 2 year old granddaughter. The neighbor girl from across the street came over to play. Our granddaughter was obviously excited, and took off running towards her room, leaving the other little girl behind for the moment, and four adults in the living room. I thought I heard something and slowly wandered away from the others towards our granddaughter's room-to find her face down, screaming and crying, blood on the floor. She had fallen in her excitement and either hit the floor or the edge of her little wooden table on the way down to the floor. Big gash on her forehead. Two years old. Excited. Let me tell you something, I saw nothing but a sweet, loving, normal little girl who had an accident. It was like looking at myself in a mirror of which I had no memory but the story my mother told-a story whose interpretation by my mother I no longer believe.

3. My dear friend Shelly, former classmate at our attempt at seminary graduate school, now a United Methodist Deaconess, let me know that she had written a testimonial to the Archbishop of Washington D.C. about me (and 2 other women) to ask for special tickets to get to see the Pope during his US visit, and, that if the tickets materialized (they didn't), she would pay my bus fare, etc. to get me there. The thought provoking event she provided wasn't so much her attempts to get those specific tickets, as it was what she wrote, and the length she would have gone to for something that she thought would be life affirming for me. Not one single person in my parish would do that for me. (I don't necessarily mean that specific event, I mean not one single parish member is willing to go extensively out of their way to help me nurture my gifts.) It woke me up. I had to realize just how lowly I have allowed others to think of me, to use me, to discount me because I don't flaunt my gifts in other people's faces. I don't puff myself up and say "Look at me-Attend to me-". To do so would be unChristian, yet, all my life I've seen Christians of all denominations do that very thing to get what they want and then dare to call it the "blessing of God". Sadly, my Dad's assessment of church people is closer to the truth than I ever realized. Not completely, but terrifyingly close. Dad was a domestic terrorizer, but he wasn't stupid.

RECONSIDERATION OF ASPERGER/AUTISM LABEL WITH KNOWLEDGE OF EARLY CHILDHOOD FAMILY PROBLEMS

So, here I am, allegedly abnormal, yet normal. Testified to as a blessing of God by another Christian to other Christians, yet not. Labeled as a gifted Aspie, yet there's that little problem of mishandled development that nobody knew what to do about because in the early 1960's, as now, nobody knew how best to handle domestic violence. It leaves me knowing that I believed for decades that there's something drastically wrong with me, only to find out that that isn't quite true and they most likely all knew it, but didn't know how to come straight out and tell me the whole thing. (It even echoes some of the social-political whisperings in my own parish...such as someone telling me somebody else is jealous, and I don't understand the subtle reference.)

Where does this leave me?

Empty.

Disillusioned.

Tired.

Back to God (the 2 of us) and not religion (group of people). In fact, the chasm between what I consider to be true faith in God and what is called religion is so vast that I don't know if it will ever be bridged within me again.

I have to forgive. I choose to forgive. After all, most persons, even in the current situations, simply didn't/don't know what to do. In fact, it's almost ludicrous to say "I forgive" because what is there to forgive if nobody knew/knows the right thing to do?

And what about the Aspie/Autism label? It was the closest thing I had to what is "wrong" with me. What if there wasn't anything "wrong" with me, other than the fact that I had to do whatever I had to do to survive specific situations?

Again, has my life been wasted due to my search to find out what is wrong with me?

Well, I haven't spontaneously developed the ability to enjoy being in a crowd of people, such as in the noisy parish hall, where sound not only bounces off the walls but also emerges as vibrations along the floor through my feet and up my spine. I still can't go to any of their social functions without becoming physically ill, due to the noise level. Does that make me abnormal and autistic? I don't know-what if that part of my self was never developed because of the situation in which I grew up? What if I'm simply extremely sensitive, not only emotionally but physically?

What does it matter? It matters a great deal in this society because without the ability to be able to gather in crowded eating areas or even meeting areas, I will never be able to hold a professional job, to use my college degree or finish a graduate degree, and, that means that I will never be, by this society's and church's standards "successful". Even worse, according to Christians who believe that a person can be healed and simply get over these things, I will never be blessed by God or do God's Will!

And, further, if I'm NOT Aspie/Autistic, then I shouldn't take advantage of the opportunities that are starting to open up for alternative employment for persons on the autistic spectrum.

Which puts me back to "square one" where I don't belong anywhere, and, THAT is what my life experience taught me at such an early age that I'm not sure I can ever change it. My middle age years are beginning to ask myself WHY I would want to change it!

WHY I STILL BELIEVE AND WHAT I'M DOING TO KEEP HOPING/ATTEMPTING TO LIVE

It's morning. I'm not sure what else I can write about the previous, though there are so many more details, but, even what I have written, I will most likely edit down before I post online.

Sometimes people ask me, and I even ask myself, WHY I'm still attending church. How can I believe in a God that would allow a child to grow up in such circumstances, particularly what could seem the indifference of Christian family?

The first answer is fairly simple. Jesus tells us specifically that the religious persons of His time period pretty much had it wrong, they were pursuing religion, not God. What had once been a methodic and orderly way for a vast group of people to worship God together had become empty, void of the God it was created to serve in the first place. (You could argue it was even created by God and given by God to the people who then twisted it into their own image.) Yet, in spite of Jesus' acknowledgment of this twisted state of religion, He didn't say it was OK to just walk out and worship God alone. In fact, Jesus did something I wish He wouldn't have, he instituted a new way of worshipping, of remembering Him, together.

Bottom line: Jesus never said it was OK to quit worshipping God with others. In fact, there are some Scriptures that suggest we are to stay and be an example of what it truly means to serve God within a corrupt faith community. Unless we are kicked out and/or imprisoned. Some might welcome that. I still wonder if St. Paul didn't choose to allow himself to be imprisoned for the Gospel because he knew it would take him out of the main political loop of the forming Church, leaving him alone with the Ascended Jesus.

The Ascended Jesus. The One Who Was, Who Is, and Who Is To Come. The One who said "The Father and I are One." and also "Receive the Holy Spirit". This is Who and Where we find our life. One day, I realized that God is right here all the time...it was a moment of taking me back to childhood when I knew that God was there even in the midst of all the horrors and griefs. I don't have to search for God in religion, God is right here, with me all the time. Some days that's easier to grasp than others.

Yes, I believe in the Real Presence within the sacrament of Holy Communion. Due to the 40 year liturgy war that I didn't know I was walking in to when I became Catholic, I frequently wish I didn't have that faith. But, I do, probably given to me by God, so I will have to live with it. Worse yet, I find myself "charismatic Catholic". Oh God, please no! But there it is. Yet, more than any of this, which can become ensnared in corporate religion, is this personal eternal encounter with the Living God that begins now. That has always been. And always will be.

No, I can't "wrap my mind around it", as they say. I think I can only wrap myself up in the Heart of Jesus Christ. When I forget that, when I start worrying about how to live in this life, particularly within family and church real-life dramas, I get terrified, disoriented, confused. I need to go back to the Heart of Jesus, not to the snares of religion, society, or even family. Even to pursue some kind of "happy family" with my sons, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren would be to ensnare them in an illusion of photographic happiness. (If they read this, they will laugh, because I am the ultimate photo taker. What I mean is, it would be unfair of me to make them into my religion, so to speak.)

Yet, there is no denying that there are times when this life seems unbearable. What then? Why doesn't God, who is Ever Present, step in and hear our cries? Sometimes God does, and we are convinced it is God when it happens. But, much of the time, I don't know what God is thinking. It's as though God wants us to walk on air over the chasm between religion and faith towards the city written about in Hebrews 11:8-16, the one built by God. However, at those many times, I know that I say things like, "Well, God that's real nice that You've given me this vision of walking on air above an empty chasm with Jesus waiting on the other side at the City Gates, arms outstretched, but that doesn't help me much right now when I'm worried about how I'm going to get the practical problems of the day on this earth solved!

One way I am getting through the days on this earth is to rip out lawn and plant flower seeds. Gardening, if you can call it that. Yesterday, I didn't even want to water the baby plants that were coming up, to nurture them. In fact, I wanted to go rip them all out, destroy everything I'd worked so hard to start. I am also keeping a journal of this growing season where I start out by stating that I don't know why I want to even try this, they'll all just be dead in 3 or 4 months, and then I'll have to clean the mess up. (I'm planting mostly annuals.) Yesterday, I forced myself to water them. It took me awhile, but eventually I started enjoying the little green shoots, some that seemed to spring taller even as I watered.

Of course, we are supposed to get some bad storms, and hail and/or wind may come along and rip them all out for me, but not because of me. If at all possible, those flowers WILL grow and bloom this year, and I WILL draw/paint/photograph/write poetry about them, even if I don't get one other single solitary thing accomplished this year! (Of course, I know a few family members are hoping I will get their sewing gifts finished....maybe, we'll see.....)

This gardening has become my version of The Secret Garden Principle. In the story of The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodges Burnett, (there is an excellent film version by Warner Bros.), Mary Lennox is an orphan who is "imprisoned" in a vast old English estate, where she finds a walled garden and works on bringing it back to life. Here's what I call The Principle: Mary turns her prison into her sanctuary.

Some people lament that some of we adults who have come from weird family situations and/or who have an unusual "diagnosis/label" are ensnared in victimhood and that we need to snap ourselves out of it. What they don't understand is that quite a few of us don't have the means to do that, and nobody seems forthcoming to give us the means. We ARE trapped, largely through no fault of our own. And, due to current events in our society, our numbers will most likely escalate. Some of us will become destructive, not seeing any way out. Here's the point: there is no way out. The challenge is to flourish in the midst of seemingly overwhelming circumstances, like a beautiful purple thistle that I saw growing among the trash and concrete of the city-if nobody cut it down, it lived long enough to let the wind spread it's seed.

Stop trying to find a way to get to the "good life". IF better opportunities come along, by all means, accept them and try them. But, don't waste your life waiting for that to happen. Announce to God that you are going to build a sanctuary within your prison and that God had better darned well help you build that, because God is going to be the Center of that sanctuary! (Well, maybe you should ask God nicely, I'm the one who badgers God constantly, and look at all the writing God's got me doing.)

And now I've written myself out again and need to go back and whittle this down to some manageable blog post.

I suppose I could eat breakfast.

One more thing I do, I pray for others, even the dead. I remember being angry when I realized that it's entirely possible God has me Catholic so that I can pray for the dead members of my family and in-laws, and others. At first I was reluctant, but, then I thought, "What could it hurt?" Sure, maybe there's no point to it at all, and if not, praying for somebody who is dead certainly isn't going to hurt me any. And, if there IS some way God uses those prayers, then why not? I expect each and every one of you reading this to pray at least a hundred "Mercy on her, O LORD" after I die! What? Not a chance?! Oh well, I tried...................

Tell someone you love them today, even if it's God.

Thanks for reading. I'm still going to try to get some more pictures of my sketches, they won't be the best quality because they have to come from my camera.

-Ritagail

poem to share in case the fever gets me

Sun, 6 Apr 2008 21:15:48 -0600

I wrote the following poem this evening, fully aware that it is akin to the older poets that I loved as a kid. I've got mild ideas of illustrating it later. I needed a make-believe name for the land that would rhyme with "begun". But, I was afraid that might be in another story or poem, so, I did a search online. Near as I can figure out, it may be the name of a land in a fantasy game. Added the "h" because that doesn't seem to infringe on anyone's literary property.

Yes, I caught a bad cold for my 47th birthday. It is now in it's 4th full day, at the cough and fever stage. One of the few times in months that I've actually felt warm.........What?.......Oh, the poem? You wanna read the poem? Ok, here ya go:

The Land of Zhun

In the Land of Zhun,
Where human wishes are begun--
Before they mature and close their minds--
God walked through the flowers,
Alone there, for hours,
Until God saw some children left behind.
"From whence came thee?" asked God
And with gentle footsteps softly trod
Towards the children hiding in the trees.
A few of them quivered,
One of them openly shivered,
But none would say from whence they might be.
All but one little girl were scared of God's glow,
She dared to step forward, about four steps or so,
"Please, we don't know who you are.
Nor, for that matter do any of we
Know who we are or from whence we came to be,
But some of us remember a thing called a Star.
Please, tell us, is that what you are?"

"I am," God replied, "both Star and Star maker,
I am both the Matter and the Creator."
And God glowed bright, like a fountain of light.

"Then, please," the girl in a near whisper said,
"Have You forgotten us…or…are we dead…
If You're the Creator, then You should know us-right?"
A murmur arose from the boughs of the trees,
Children peeked from behind the sheltering leaves,
"Yes, please, oh please tell us who we are
We've nowhere to go and we can't remember our names.
We've no-one to tell us stories or teach us to play games.
All of the other people must have gone away very far,
Please, please, oh please tell us who we are."

Now, this perplexed God, and, tore at God's heart,
Children that God didn't know about, how did that start?
God thought and thought and reached around Time,
And, there, on the other side of Eternity, in one dark hall,
God saw a child weeping at the hopelessness of Human Fall,
Not the Fall of Sin, but the Fall of Imagination and Rhyme,
The Casting Out of Possibilities and Seeing Beyond The Real,
The Stifling of Singing and the Magic Held in a Single Seal-
And then God knew who these children were and how they came to be.
They were the younger selves of the religious minds
Who made the Rules of Religions, leaving God, and themselves, behind.
And God said, embracing them, "Come, live with Me."

And the children, knowing fear no more
Embraced God and played together along the shores
Laughing and basking in golden glow sublime.
In the Land of Zhun,
Where human wishes are begun--
Before they mature and close their minds.

--Ritagail Crowell Burleson
April 6, 2008