Blog

The sun is barreling in on me as never before. That’s because the Sitka spruce that sheltered our yard for 50+ years had to come down yesterday. It was struck by lightning earlier in the week.

We had slipped away to the beach hours before the act of Nature that crippled this beauty. I realize now our quieter-than-usual retreat was a vigil of sorts as we texted back and forth with our dear neighbors. With the arborists, they decided the tree’s fate as she was technically on their property. Borders are an odd thing; we were losing a member of the family too.

Meanwhile, between the texts, I finally finished reading The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James H. Cone. That sad recollecting of history has taken me a while. My tears didn’t flow though until I read The Giving Tree to Rob on the drive home. To think of the times of grief and loss that I have read that book with a child. This was the first time I’d read it for a sacred tree though after having read one precious story after another about how trees and their branches and their lumber have been used. Um, um.

The powerful metaphors are piling up along with the sunshine. I am a mere melted pool in the paradox of gratitude and sorrow.

Now is when I think of the women most. Mary of course. And all the wonderful women in my life.

This morning Facebook flashed a video clip of us rehearsing Dona Nobis Pacem for my father’s memorial service nine years ago. My mother. My sisters. My daughter. So much love and appreciation swelled for these four.

I am grateful for Violeta, Pearl and Seyi—friends who have joined me here over the seasons of Lent—willing to share their insights in prose and poems and photos. Wouldn’t these be beautiful names for the three sisters if I ever wrote a novel?

This year Theresa was alongside too, an accomplished writer who chose to resurrect her blog and post about pilgrimage. Meanwhile we are journeying towards her official welcome into the cathedral family.

In the realm of those who encourage my writing, there are my Jewels. And Ann/e’s. There is Susan far away in Djibouti. And Pat. I don’t think she’s missed a post.

Also, it has been a deep pleasure when one of you has liked me in social media or especially when you have stopped me and said thanks. You know who you are. Believe me, I notice.

The business of writing every day, then exposing a piece of my heart by sharing, felt daunting on Ash Wednesday. Now here we are on this Holy Saturday, Day 40, in the blink of an eye.

Life is easier with a pack of beauties surrounding me.

Last night I washed Hisako’s feet and she washed mine. It was bliss.

Then we sang Mozart’s Ave Verum corpus. Ah sweet payback; I knew the alto part by heart. During the lockdown I’d sung my lines a zillion times for virtual choir, one of the more awkward and difficult things I’ve done. Yesterday I sang this exquisite piece with 50 intergenerational voices in harmony, and in person side-by-side. That was bliss too.

Last night it was as if I spooned with Jesus. Now it is Good Friday. Even so, I will go out into the world, as we said in Morning Prayer, rending my heart and not my garment. There is more bliss.

Collecting

You are invited to join us tonight for Maundy Thursday worship at 7 PM at St Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral in Seattle. If you come in person you can choose to join in as we wash each other’s feet, like Jesus did. Or you can join via live-stream. Our choir will be singing.

Yesterday when Jewels gathered, we were awed by a live improvisational piano solo. How’s that for a surreal writing prompt?

I found myself listening and drafting this prayer:

Eternal One, who calls us all to dance and settles each of us to peace. We own your wonderfulness. You have held our hands through the dark including mine this morning while they were tight on the steering wheel driving here through rain and endless traffic. You assist us as we release tears and raucous laughter too. Help us go forth through these holy days and nights in steady joy, willing to be luminescent as we weep for all the suffering both inside and around us. In all the Holy Names of the Ineffable. Amen.