How autocorrect attempts to correct the word snaggle
It is not snuggle, although I’m thankful for that as well
How one grandchild solemnly said Thank you, Mother Earth after collecting empty bean pods from the ground to use in her play…and how her sisters chimed in, Mother Earth echoing in the world they create here, away from the “other world” so close by
and this leads me to remember the young ones who used God as She and Her and how sooner or later we are all corrected—all along the way—when maybe in fact we really do know and like auto-correct, we sigh and roll our eyes and continue…
How everything does not have to be corrected
And this reminds me of my current textile exploration/practices where mistakes are welcome and the only rule is leave them in
and it makes sense to me
and I celebrate the knowing of all that does not have to be perfect or understood
…
and the moon is full and the jonquils are giving us new iterations daily
And somewhere someone thinks of us as we think of them
and
some among us are suffering and struggling and trying to continue and in that place, those days, we have an opportunity to provide welcome and blessed peace.
I hope you are able to recognize the need before you this week, and offer a simple smile. May you be well. May all be well.
Three years ago the landscape here was much different…18” of snow and frigid days tested these beauties…but they are slowly returning. Patience ✅
A precious grandson arrived during those days, too, and he was celebrated again this weekend. Birthday hugs and “kisses to grow on”✅
And while we expect high 70s this week, we did have a brief flurry on the radar after dark this weekend—little surprises to make us smile ✅
The Lenten book from my sister and some quiet time to read and reflect✅
Needles and threads and returning to stitch practices ✅
Finally, some good words from Joseph Campbell:
“You must have a place to which you can go in your heart, your mind, or your house, almost every day, where you do not owe anyone and where no one owes you – a place that simply allows for the blossoming of something new and promising.”✅
This week’s gratitude post centers around one decision: buying a $1.99 clearance bouquet of roses in a grocery store early last week.
It was a seemingly simple decision, but as the week wore on, that bouquet kept being an active participant and companion in my comings and goings.
The lady in front of me started the whole thing because I noticed her wildflower bouquet with a huge yellow sticker marked $1.99. Wow, you got a great deal there I said to her. She agreed and said You really should go look. There’s a cart full of bouquets near the produce section.
Well, needless to say, I left the prime spot in line and ventured to the farthest corner of the store where I was greeted with a cart overflowing with choices.
Surprisingly, I almost didn’t buy them. It is, after all, Lent…a time of self sacrifice yada yada yada. But, 1.99. Haha.
So, I chose the ones pictured here…this happy bouquet which in an odd way has been my focus this week. Unexpected.
As I paid for them, the clerk commented on the price and said You will surely get $1.99’s worth of enjoyment out of these.
I agreed, and as I walked away, I heard the next customer in line also talking about her random find of happy flowers. I guess the domino effect really is alive and well. We notice what others have, and I guess that could be bad in a lot of cases, but in this one, lots of good. Lots of color. Beauty. Sweetness.
The next day, I decided to make a smaller bouquet and take to my office. A car bouquet is a fun thing, and it brightened my commute as well as my office all day long.
Then, I met a friend to deliver a letter of recommendation, and as a last minute decision, put a couple of the flowers in a jar for her. She was delighted.
Onward to the next day, when another nosegay bouquet accompanied me to my local workplace. As I left for the day, I offered them to a coworker to give his wife, and he accepted delightedly. This little bouquet surely worked hard for a lot of folks. ❤️
I showed them to my daughter as we Skyped this weekend. Dang…that little hometown bouquet went global just like that, bringing a moment of joy and color to another life.
Then, my granddaughters noticed and were also taken by the variety of colors.
This little bouquet has been seen by others this week, has graced my art table as I draw and paint and marvel at the layers and depths of a single bud.
Anyway, you get the idea. They did indeed give me $1.99’s worth of enjoyment.
And I hope as you view them, they bring you the gifts of color, light, beauty, and love.
The world is in need of so much. Could it really start with simple decisions on each of our parts to take a moment to elevate something small to a place of importance?
The last quarter of the year always seems to be on roller skates…catch as much good as you can before it zips right by.
Five good things since last time:
Honest hometown service people✅✅
A cat with a Cheeto ✅
A dog waiting at the end of the driveway ✅
Stacks of essays to be graded and some really good words within them ✅
A new vinyl album in Christmas red —I’m on the brink of launching this holiday season, and with the cooler temps that we are finally experiencing, it looks like it will be sooner rather than later. ✅
Good Friday: a day of solemn remembrance. A day where many Christians keep silence, walk the Stations of the Cross, fast, witness.
It really is in the witnessing we receive the deepest gifts.
Have you ever walked alongside a friend or family member as they experienced a terrible ordeal?
You likely felt helpless, but somehow your presence mattered.
Recall the Scripture when Jesus asked Could you not watch with me one hour? (Matthew 26:40)
Often, we might find it hard to watch with someone. Messy paths make us uncomfortable. Too much is unknown. We are busy. We want control. We want order and resolutions and all to be well. We forget that we all get a turn on the messy road. We are going to want someone to witness with us one day.
Tonight’s post takes a departure from my usual five good things listing.
Tonight, I ask you to pray for five people before you go to sleep. So many people are suffering on any given day. On Good Friday, we recall the ultimate suffering.
If we sit with that suffering for a time and do not turn from it, we learn what we need to do. Who needs us. How we can be present on the way.
Five names, lifted up. Any five. No names come to mind? Then five needs you have. Any five.
Still nothing?
Then pray for five people you will never meet and never know. Picture them on a dark road with no one to help them, no one to offer them a light, a hand, an encouraging word.
When you picture them, you’ll know your next step. Don’t be afraid to take it.
I know so many are missing ritual and routine today.
The one day of the liturgical year when everything is upended: no holy water in the fonts, no music, no consecration …is all the more real this year because a worldwide pandemic has us looking at shuttered church doors, emptied holy water fonts for fear of disease, and no communion.
No Good Friday services. At least not in person.
The questions about the future remain.
We are in mourning.
That is the base truth. We are mourning the present, and we are mourning the past. We are mourning the future that has not been revealed.
In the space between now and what is to be, I invite you to:
Take a quiet breath
Close your eyes
Listen for a familiar sound
Really hear it…
And in the space between hearing and accepting the new truth about our circumstances,
Be still.
You are not alone.
We are walking with you.
You do not have to know what to do next.
You only have to be present.
You survived the moment.
Survive the next one. The next one.
At some point, it will change. Until it does,
Stay in the moment. This space.
If your body says it’s tired, rest.
If your heart misses a friend, call him.
If you feel like crying or screaming, allow that to happen, too.
The 95% full moon looking a lot like the Eucharist.
Will you watch and wait with me?
Tonight I’m remembering that Eucharist means Thanksgiving.
That my father would work a night shift but still attend night adoration before Easter.
That this was my mother’s favorite religious day.
That…
at the beginning of Lent I did not know I would want to sit a quiet hour in a silent church late on Holy Thursday night. But I did. Sometimes we don’t need to plan every action.
Be open to your own personal call. Listen. Act when you are ready.
At the beginning of this day, I had an idea. Then Notre Dame came falling down in flames, and really…well, fill in the blank…because if you’re alive on this planet, you surely know this structure is iconic. A terrible day to mark down in history, truly. And somehow, it seems to be worse that this happened as we begin Holy Week in the Christian world.
But, as I went about my day and continued to ponder what I want to do that is meaningful this week, my first idea still stands.
Let’s walk together. This Holy Week. Will you join me? Walk anywhere, post a picture if you’re so moved, or just join in anonymously. That’s good, too. 🙏🏼
Walk with me, knowing we know nothing. We know nothing about what is around the bend. We walk. We write a line about it. We live and learn. We listen.
We all saw that play out in flashing fire today.
But before I knew what I know now, what was beyond my immediate control, I walked.
I started early, and was greeted by not one, but four cardinals on the rocky road near my house. This sighting truly lifted my heart, and at that moment, I did not know that half a world away, Notre Dame was engulfed in flames.
I returned to the house, saw the news, and of course my heart fell.
“…but the gates of hell shall not prevail against it…” kept ringing in my ears, and the voices of the Parisian people lifted in unison as their cathedral burned…their joining as one voice moved me to remember that the human spirit cannot be touched. We can always fly. Always.
Just like those morning birds…
Then, as I was leaving for work, my older dog was barking nonstop, warning me of an unexpected visitor. Huge snake. The symbolism is not lost on me.
Everywhere, some kind of turmoil. Daily.
So, lots was on my mind as I arrived at my next stop. More symbolism: Hope is where I work on Mondays. And tonight, I walked there, too.
I walked a short paved path that I always think I will, but never do. But today was different. I walked and prayed for Parisians, for firefighters, for travelers. For those who hoped to visit a beautiful place of worship, and for those who won’t get to see that dream come true…not in the way they hoped.
And I realized yet again, we are all here for only a minute, then we are gone. Nothing is sure except our spirits.
So, I’m walking into this week with no preconceived ideas. Just walking and listening to what might need to be said. Will you join me?
It’s not an object I think about much, but when this day rolls around each year, I have vivid and specific memories:
the man walking away in New Mexico last year, his back pocket filled with them…
the time several years ago my daughter quietly fashioned crosses out of them in the back pew of a church, to the delight of several people around her…
the reverent way my mom made sure every crucifix in the house was adorned with them…
…and today, my two granddaughters waving them at me as they greeted me at Mass. I was thinking I might hear en guard at any moment, but the novelty wore off quickly.
Small moments that last in the mind’s eye.
The realization that the small moments carry the sweetest stories.
There were successive small sweet moments at Mass today:
A slow hymn played and Emma began whimpering. She feels the music. She and her sister always have. This truth gives me insight into the kind of people they will grow to be…caring, aware, attuned.
Sofia spotted her beloved “Aunt Betty” on the way to communion and stopped to let her know. To greet her, smile at her, visibly be thrilled to see her. Then, tears when we were back in our seats…that last few minutes until she could see her again feeling like an eternity.
To love, to feel love like that. That.
Emma, age 2 1/2, leading me by the hand to light a candle. Waving to Jesus on the way, holding the long match and patiently (as possible…she’s 2) waiting for the flicker to become a flame. Sofia, 3 1/2, arrives just in time to assist.
Lots to think about on this day. It’s a day of anniversaries as well. My own life re-started thanks to skilled doctors and blood donors 28 years ago. I’ve witnessed an extra lifetime of small moments that I said thank you for again today. And… because life is this two sided coin… a life taken 7 years ago: my best friend lost to me and so many who loved her because a drunk made a terrible choice to get behind the wheel of a car and drive.
So, a Palm Sunday candle is flickering in a century old church tonight with prayers of thanksgiving for a life spared and prayers of not knowing what words to say when a life is taken, so a tiny flame takes the place of the words.
I don’t have to have the words. Like two little girls remind me, my feelings are enough.
Sometimes, like the people in the Gospel narrative today, we are witnesses. Seeing all the things. Storing them in our hearts. Knowing that we each have a role to play on and off the page.
We enter Holy Week today…a week that I hope to continue some Lenten promises, spend some extra time in silence, and reflect on a lot of things. And hopefully, learn from the small moments and little children that the smallest acts of love and presence still matter the most.
A blog reaching out to victims of abuse and others in need, providing insight about abuse, hope for the future, and guidance to see THE LIGHT that lead Secret Angel out of the darkness of her own abusive situation and helped her to not only survive but to overcome.
agnestirrito 