Here is a Haiku for the new neighbors:
Sun rise comes early.
Sex in the morning is nice.
Your head-board is loud!
The kids have not heard
Five thirty am coitus
Lets keep it that way!
We can hear all the walking.
Fore light-footed you are not.
Welcome to the ‘hood.
Mothers day
meh.
The truth is that I do not like this “holiday.” it was invented by a card company. Fuck you Hallmark, you suck. The other truth is this day does not make me feel better.
I am reminded of all the mothers with empty arms today. I am reminded of mothers whose children are dead, from war, famine, drugs, SIDS, neighborhood warfare, and cancer. The list goes on and on.
I am reminded of the mother who arms are empty because of broken wombs. I am reminded of the mothers of children of special needs. whose dreams for their child is changed from success in college and careers to who will care for my child when I am gone?
I am reminded of woman like Desiree Young, whose son Kyon has been missing since June 4 2010.
Guess how many children are missing as I write this post? National Crime Information Center’s Missing Person File each year. In 2011 more than 550,000 entries were made by law enforcement for those younger than 21. the FBI says “ As of December 31, 2011, NCIC contained 85,158 active missing person records. Juveniles under the age of 18 account for 37,371 (43.9 %) of the records and 9,832 (11.5 %) were for juveniles between the ages of 18 and 20”
a lot of empty arms today. Every day.
I am reminded of the mothers for whom mothering is a chore. Mothers who did not want to be a mother, like my own mother. Who hated mothering. And would let us know that many times a week.
Mothers day for me is bittersweet, my mother sucked at mothering. She sucked at it till the day she died. This mothers day was the first one since mom died. On Wednesday I remembered that I had ordered her an edible arrangement. I got a great deal on it and when I said to the lady that I was ordering it from that it was for my dyeing mother, she made sure it got to her that day. That was nice.
So today I did not have anyone to call. And in truth, I did not really care. She is gone. She did not like me or my sister. She did not like being a mother. If she could have done it over again, she would not have done it over again.
to be cont.
i love this poem by W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good
My minster submitted her resignation on Sunday. There were tears from the pulpit. There were tears everywhere. Even the ugly cry! And no tissues any freeken-where as she never, ever let us put Kleenex out even when she knew people would cry, like for the Dead of the Dead service, ( a no brainier right?) cuz she did not want to make people feel like they have to cry.
One of my questions for the new minister is what their stance is on Kleenex in the pews…..but I digress.
I have been a member of 4 Unitarian Universalist churches and in all 4, the ministers have left for a variety of reasons. The first 3 times I was offended and sad and pissed off! But now, I get it. I understand, that this is what happens in the Unitarian Universalist Faith. Ah, change…it is great! Oh, and it sucks and it is scary as shit. I do not think I know a whole lots people, who, ya know, LOVE CHANGE. That would not be me. But it happens, it must happen. In a faith tradition that challenges us to learn and grow, there must be change.
The fourth principle speaks to this:
A free and responsible search for truth and meaning.
In every UU church I have been a part of the minister has left after about 10 years, (one left after 4 or 5) and that seems to be the norm. The thing is….for UU’s our churches and parishes are not about the minister. They are about the congregations, the people. That is why so many of our congregations are lay led. Unlike the big evangelical mega churches we are known by our works not our ministers.
And that my friends is a good thing. It is what makes us awesome. It is going to be sad, we will cry and feel angry and maybe even abandoned. One of my girl friends said today that she felt like Rev. D broke up with us.“’it is not you…its me….” we all laughed, it was funny! That’s okay to feel all the feelings that will rise up. Feelings are not right or wrong, they just are. Together, we can and will get though this. We will hold each other in love and light and hold Rev. D there also. Rev. D.will be fine. She will be great. And so will we.
Do you know why?
Because we are greater then the sum of our parts. Period.
If we do not sacrifice our comfort, then we become complacent. We are a brave group, it is in the DNA of our congregation! Hells bells, we built a new church during the depression. We built a new wing during the worst economic crises since the depression. We are brave and courageous and strong and forward looking, forward thinking and we say YES TO LIFE.
In the 4 times I have been a part of a church that goes though the process of searching for a new called minister, 3 have thrived. We are going to grow in ways have never even imagined. Growing has some pain that comes with it, but together we will get though that also. What I mean is, that Rev. D is giving us a huge gift. A generous gift. And I am looking forward to what lies ahead for us.
And really look forward to what is in store for Rev D. Great big wonderful things!
A prayer:
Dear G*d
Change is in the air and it is not just spring.
We are facing loss. But not in a bad way.
Our minister, the woman who has pastored our church
church for the last 10, nearly 11 years is leaving.
It is time, she says.
and that may be true
So dear one, I am asking that you hold her
in light and love. Surround her in your loving embrace
give her confidence and courage and hope.
Remind her of Jeremiah 29:11-13
New International Version (NIV)
11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
Remind us also!
Our church has a lot of work ahead of us. Give us confidence, courage and hope also. But truth be told, Divine One, I know we have those things.
Help and encourage all of us when asked, to say YES.
and can you please make sure that the new minister will like Kleenex in the pews?
Amen, and may it be so.
PS>
just spoke to Rev. D.
she said she will never EVER let there be Kleenex in the pews.
HUMPHFT!
Spirit of life
one who is known by many names
and no name
you, you are not
bound by gender or form
G*d.
How we are hurting.
Such carnage.
Such pain
a child was killed.
He was 8
EIGHT
Hold his family very close.
I saw lord, a photo
of a man, a runner who lost both legs.
The photo looks like a horror movie still.
I will never forget it.
and I was not even there.
A friend was.
She was running
and stopped at a medical tent
cuz her stomach hurt.
She was 2 blocks away Lord.
Thank you that she is safe.
She is not completely okay.
But she will be.
She has you.
Dear Gracious One.
Pour your love and protection
and grace and healing and light
like a waterfall on Boston.
God Bless us.
Every One.
Amen
Today was not good.
It was not good at all.
I do not like not good days.
As they are not good.
No, no, they are not good at all.
No not one bit.
Not even one.
Meds only work to a point.
Talk therapy is better.
But I do not have 30 bucks.
( We had to pay for school)
I do not have 1 hour.
I do not have child care.
I do not even have the co-pay for the meds.
I do not like not good days.
They sneak up on you.
Like a rapist in the dark.
But in truth, it is always there.
Never far away. Even if you are having a good day.
It is just in hiding watching you.
And it will jump out and grab you.
In the dark.
Today was not good.
It was not good at all.
I do not like not good days.
As they are not good.
No, no, they are not good at all.
No not one bit.
Not even one.
The following is extracted from a 2001 Easter sermon by the Reverend Michael McGee adapted from a story by Jim Wallace. Then re-adapted by me.
A group of friends of various Faith Traditions were in a coffee shop discussing the true meaning of Easter one day when the Baptist said:
“I believe we place too much emphasis on chocolate bunnies, colored rabbits and Easter eggs instead of the spiritual aspects, which is the real meaning of Easter” said the Baptist.
“Me too” said the Methodist.
“Me too,” said the Lutheran.
“Me too,” said the Catholic.
–And the Unitarian Universalist was silent.
“I believe the real meaning of Easter is that Christ died on the Cross for our sins,” said the Methodist.
“Me too,” said the Lutheran.
“Me too,” said the Baptist.
“Me too,” said the catholic
–And the UU was silent.
“I believe the real meaning of Easter is the Resurrection of Jesus ” said the Lutheran.
“Me too,” said the Methodist.
“Me too,” said the Baptist.
“Me too,” said the Catholic.
–And the UU was silent.
The group then turned to their UU friend,
whom they all recognized as a little strange
and said,
“Your silence is a mystery to us. Just what do you believe as a Unitarian Universalist is the real meaning of Easter?”
The UU … said:
“I believe the real meaning of Easter is the appreciation of life’s renewing cycles and, that for all things there is a season.
I believe the real meaning of Easter is the acknowledgment, with its accompanying sadness, of a very human Jesus who was forced to die on the Cross because of his liberal religious views and beliefs.
But most important of all
I believe the real meaning of Easter is the Celebration of Thanksgiving for the presence of the sacred in each and every living person and thing;
for the presence of the sacred in the birds that sing;
for the presence of the sacred in the flowers which sway
and the grasses which rustle in the gentle breezes of spring.
This is what I believe is the real meaning of Easter,” said the UU
“Me too,” sang the birds.
“Me too,” waved the flowers.
“Me too,” rustled the grasses.
“Me too,” sighed the wind. — And all the rest were silent.
something happened.
early on a sunday morning, in their way to complete the unspeakable task of preparing their teacher, jesus’ body for burial;
the women, including his mother were stopped by something;
unfathomable.
unbelievable.
inconceivable to be honest.
something happened
and
it changed them.
it changed religion.
it changed, well, everything.
it appears that love ruled.
love won.
forgivness won.
it conquered the unconquerable.
death.
yea, even the most brutal of deaths it concurred.
so barbaric, ruthless and savage was his death, that most of his students and followers bailed.
save for the women, who stood by
and bore witness.
with heart stabbing torment
they watched.
brave and steadfast in their love and faith and devotion to this man.
they watched in horror as he suffered.
the others, the others, well, they ran for the hills in fear and rage and agony.
i suppose they just could not stand by and watch.
or maybe they were just cowards.
i do not know.
it does not matter, now.
because something happened.
after years of teaching and modeling love
toward;
the different.
the other.
the unlovable.
the untouchable.
the unwanted.
the unneeded.
the ones but for to him did not matter.
he was a humble carpenter and rabbi who was so
unyielding to the social norms of the
day and rules of engagement
so unwavering in his calling
that his simple truth
his message
his liberal message
to love.
to forgive
was so powerful that it caused the people in
authority;
in religion
and in politics to
take notice.
something happened
a man occupying the hearts of all who
came to know him.
with his
his sanctity.
his servant hood.
his teachings.
his simple commandments to,
love one another.
love your enemy.
love.
always.
forgive!
forgive over
and over
and over
again.
and then forgive again!
it put such fear into the hearts of the elite.
the rich and powerful, the religious
“the man.”
that they tried to get rid of him
by imposing the death penitently.
though he was innocent of any true crime.
he was killed.
and then, something happened.
though we can never really know.
though we can not understand.
it does not really matter we can not our selves
concur death.
not as he did anyway.
if that was what happened.
and we should not.
because if we did.
if we could;
then that something, that happening.
did not happen.
and we have learned nothing.
and his death was for naught.
I have a friend whose 10-year-old son is dying.
Sam was born with Joubert Syndrome, a rare genetic disorder that causes global developmental delays and, more recently, kidney failure.
His Mother, Mindy is Blogging about it
Considering Sam
Hospice is in place.
Hospice!
At night, every night as I fall asleep or try to,
I pray for them. Most of the time I have no idea what the fuck to pray,
so I just cry for them.
I know 5 mothers who have buried a child.
5
So, anyway, Sam
He is dying. Leaving an older Brother Jackson, Baby sister Clara, mother Mindy and his father David.
So I pray, cuz what the fuck else can I do? What can anyone do?
I ask for the spirit of life or peace or healing or love or whatever to wash over them
I pray that his parents can sleep
I pray for moments of peace
Even if it is a pee with out someone knocking on the door
Or a nice cocktail
Or a pretty sunset
Or humming birds
A night or even 10 minutes with out the other siblings fighting….( hey it can happen)
I pray that Sam does not suffer.
I could pray that his family does not suffer.
But they are going to anyway.
So I pray for strength to endure it.
I say “please” a lot.
Please, Lord.
Please, please,
Please.
She is far away. So I can not go to her house to make her laugh or take a bottle of cheap wine
So I pray
And I cry
For the loss of the dream that comes from having a child with such disability.
I cry with gratitude that my children are healthy.
Every night, i cry, as i am sure does his mother, if she even has the strength for tears.
I cry because, it is so fucking wrong that
there is hospice for children.
I cry because Sam will never grow up
Or go to a regular school
Or go to a school dance
Get an F on a test
Drive a car too fast
Get grounded for the F
Or have a girl friend
Or a boyfriend, cuz who knows?
He wont get a new apartment.
Or have a first broken heart.
Get married and have children.
But he would not be doing those things anyway.
And I can not know if that makes it worse for his
parents or not.
So many things and dreams that parents have for their children.
All the dreams that I have no idea of because my children are healthy, so why would I dream of anything?
I cry because no one not one of us is immune from this heart stabbing reality that babies and children get sick and die even in 2013.
This could happen and does happen to people we know and love
and even the ones we don’t like
and I could happen to you or me tomorrow.
It happens every day.
The only thing I can do it pray for S and his family.
And pray and pray.
A prayer:
Dear G*d
I can not even
name all your names right now,
cuz who gives a flying fuck what your names are
when little boys are dying?
What am I supposed to ask for?
What does comfort for a parent
who loses a child look like?
What does it feel like?
Does it even exist?
If it does, then it must be supernatural.
That “peace that passes all understanding”
thing.
Well, G*d, with all do respect,
I call bullshit.
Because the parents I know who buried their children
are broken
forever.
I mean, they do keep going.
Cuz what choice do they have?
if they have other children
they have no choice.
They have to keep going
living.
So in the mean time, as this family
goes though the unthinkable
the unfathomable task of
letting their first-born
go…
Then, please. Please.
Flood his Family with
the peace that passes all understanding.
Flood them
with love
and support
warmth.
PLEASE.
Hold close
Holy one
His brother
And
His sister.
Hold Close
His mother
and
His Father.
And all who
Know and love
This perfect
Beautiful soul.
And for Sam
May his journey to the other side
Be free of pain
Free of fear.
May Love be
All he knows.
And when the time comes for him
To cross, dear Sweet Sam
May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Amen, and May it be so….
Mindy’s Blog is:
He would drive the same way his office 6 days a week. He worked alone. Passing the same bums holding their sign on the freeway on ramp and off ramp. Never ever looking their way. Just straight head. He could not even tell you what the signs said.
Then, after parking he would walk the 4 blocks to his office dodging the “panhandlers” it made him so angry! “why should I give them one thin dime of my hard earned money? They could gt a job, McDonald’s, greeter at Walmart, selling flowers on the corner, what ever!” but the begging, it really chapped his hide.
More so when they had children with them to get more sympathy. It made him sick, enraged even.
He would say “It was not my problem that they drank or drugged their way to the street. Not my problem if you can get food to eat there are food banks.”
This went on for years. Voting against health care, and tax raise for the poor. “They should pull them selves up by their own boot straps”. why should he have to pay for someone else medical bills? Get insurance for Petes sake, get a job your problem is NOT MY PROBLEM!
One night, after working late, he was walking to the car park and he was mugged. Savagely beaten beyond reconstitution and everything stolen. His wallet. briefcase all his Ids and Credit cards. The thieves took his keys and stole his car, drove it to his house and took most of what ever was of any value what so ever and then trashed it.
He lay (lie?) in the street for some time, with catastrophic injury’s. Around 3 am someone drove by and called d911 saying there was a dead guy in the road. When the EMTs got to him he was not dead, but barely alive. He was rushed to the hospital where he spent the next several months in coma. After a transfer to a hospital able to care for indigent patents, as no one knew his name, no one even placed a missing persons report.
After nearly a year, he was release, at this point, he knew his name but he could not prove it. He remembered who he was and where he lived. But he had no friends or co workers, no family, he had estranged himself from everyone he ever knew.
He was literally lead out the door of the hospital and told to go on his way.
He had no where to go, no money he had a long scruffy beard. And a limp. He had no clothes they had been torn off when he first was admitted to the trauma unit. He did not even have a pair of shoes, a nice nurse gave him a set of those paper scrubs, ya know the ones that dads wear when their wives have babies?
So he started to walk to his old apt. but when he got to it. There was another man living there. The man would not even open the door. In fact he told him to go back under the bridge where he belonged! The man cried and begged him please! This is my house I live here! The guy on the inside of the house said. “dude. That is not my problem! Go away. Or I will call the cops”
So he walked away alone, penniless, cold and hungry. In paper pajamas.
He walk for hours on his bare feet soon he found him self at the bridge where he found a community of homeless folk.
Men
woman
families with children
dogs
When he walk over to a fire in an old trash can he was welcomed with a pair a pants. Dirty filthy pants. He needed a rope to keep them up as they did not fit.
Someone else gave him a old sweater it had holes and smelled, but once a blanket was wrapped wound him he felt a little better, he found a corner and went to sleep.
The next day the woke up and followed the others to a shelter to get coffee and breakfast from some church, but he had to sit though a sermon telling him he was going to hell. But the coffee was hot and the food OK.
Then one of his new friends said. Here is a box top. You can write anything, “help: in need; I am hungry;; what ever you want and people will give you their spare change.
He took his sign stood on a corner and two men walked by, one tossed some lose change in his can, the other would not look at him, his companion asked “come one dude you have some change for the old guy,” but the other just said “its not my problem dude, he should just get a job.”
