Pregnant in Miraculous Ways

Today is the Feast of the Visitation, a church festival day which has only recently become important to me.  This feast day celebrates the time that Mary goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth.  Both women are pregnant in miraculous ways:  Mary hasn't had sex, and Elizabeth is beyond her fertile years.  Yet both are pregnant.  Elizabeth will give birth to John the Baptist, and Mary will give birth to Jesus.

You might ask, why on earth is this ancient church festival important today?  This story has several messages that many of us need to hear today.

Lately I've been interested in this story as a story of women who say yes to the improbable, the impossible.  They open their lives to all sorts of possibilities.  Lately, I've noticed how many people are used to saying "No.  Absolutely not.  Too big a risk.  The consequences of failure will be too awful.  That time of my life is over."  On and on they go, slamming doors, walking away from possibilities, saying no to every adventure.

And something inside shrivels.  The self that can hear the still, small voice stops listening because it's too painful to always face the denial.

Today is a good day to think about what we've denied.  Maybe it's time to return to it.  As long as we have breath in our bodies, it's not too late.

Today is also a good day to think about these physical bodies that we inhabit.  Here, too, many of us grow too used to the idea that we have physical limitations that can never be overcome.  In the stories of Mary and Elizabeth, we see an overarching narrative where God finds a way when biology would say there is no way.

The world tells us of all the ways that things can go terribly wrong.  We need to remember that often we take the first steps, and we get more encouragement than we expected.  God or the universe or destiny, however you think of it, meets us more than halfway.

So today, on this feast day that celebrates unlikely miracles, let's practice saying yes.  For one day, let's quiet the negative voices that shout at us.   Today, let us try to remember all of the dreams we might have discarded as improbable, impossible.  Nourish all the possibilities.  Let's choose one possibility and try it on for size.  Let that dream incubate a bit.  Let it swell and grow into a full-blown alternative.

Summer Launch

My first three day week-end since January is done--and it was wonderful!  Sure there were some low moments, and some work in the heat, but there was also relaxing and good food and more relaxing.

Some highlights:

--We made major progress on the yard.  A year ago when we put down river rock, I foolishly didn't anticipate how the weeds will take over if we let them.  This week-end, we fought back.

--Yesterday morning, I was attacking the weeds before my spouse woke up, and I discovered a huge tomato plant on the sliver of side yard.  How did it get there?  It's far from compost or garbage.  How has it survived with the dry spring we've had?  I staked it to the fence.  I do worry that it relied on the weeds I pulled for shade and to preserve water.

--After pulling weeds in the warmth of the early morning, I decided I needed a break.  I got a book, Scratch:  Writers, Money, and the Art of Making a Living, and settled in to read by the pool.  It was lovely, drinking coffee and reading, even though the subject matter is grimly realistic about how most of us will never make much from our writing.

--We had great meals, including some smoked beef yesterday.

--We can still enjoy time on the porch, even though we've shifted to summer weather.  Last night we tried the lime ginger sangria I created.  I'll post a recipe and pictures later this week.

--Last night, as an end to Memorial Day, my spouse played various patriotic pieces on his violin, while I read in the waning light.  It was lovely.

--I am really enjoying my return to The Radiant Way.  Sadly, even though it's set in the early 80's, it still feels relevant now, especially as the character wonder what budget cuts will do to their economic chances.

--I'm thinking about Memorial Day as the launching point to summer.  Perhaps I shall wear white to the office today to try to prolong my summer feeling of "easy living" (as the song puts it) even as I go back to work.

Memorial Day Meanderings

I never got Memorial Day off as an adult, until we moved down here. In South Carolina, Memorial Day was often not celebrated because it started out life as a holiday to honor the Union dead.

I realize that some of you will be saying, "Union dead? The Civil War? That war that happened over 100 years ago?"

Oh, yes. For some folks, that war isn't really over. They celebrate Confederate Memorial Day.

And in terms of state and federal holidays, my community college employers were a bit stingy. We didn't get Presidents' Day off either.

So, it was a joy to move down here and to have the day off. But soon, enough, it felt a bit empty.

I've spent all of my life before moving down here living in places that had a military base in the community--sometimes two or three. Memorial Day has a different flavor in places with a military presence.

And part of me will always be a D.C. area girl. It's hard to move around that area without being aware of the sacrifice that past citizens have given so that I can enjoy my good and happy life. Most people are familiar with the Vietnam Memorial or Arlington National Cemetery, but there are so many other places: memorial sites, statues, plaques.

Now I live in a place that feels more like a future U.S., where English isn't the dominant language, where there are more recent arrivals than people with ancestors buried in the soil. Most days, I'm cool with this, and invigorated by it.

Today, I'd like to be at a national monument, listening to one of the service bands perform. Or maybe I'd rather be in a contemplative spot, saying a thank you.

So, on this day which has become for so many of us just an excuse to have a barbecue, let us pause to reflect and remember.  If we're safe right now, let us say a prayer of gratitude.  Let us remember that we've still got lots of military people serving in dangerous places. 

Let us remember how often the world zooms into war.  Let us pray to be preserved from those horrors.

 Here's a prayer I wrote for Memorial Day:


God of comfort, on this Memorial Day, we remember those souls whom we have lost to war.  We pray for those who mourn.  We pray for military members who have died and been forgotten.  We pray for all those sites where human blood has soaked the soil.  God of Peace, on this Memorial Day, please renew in us the determination to be peacemakers.  On this Memorial Day,we offer a prayer of hope that military people across the world will find themselves with no warmaking jobs to do. We offer our pleading prayers that you would plant in our leaders the seeds that will sprout into saplings of peace.

Day One of Memorial Day Week-end

My 3 day week-end is off to a good start, but I don't have much time to write, because we're trying to buy a lawnmower before church.  Let me list some highlights from yesterday:

--I had a GREAT spin class.  Our teacher took seriously my request for more Queen--we had at least 6 Queen songs, plus one from Billy Squier, one from Pat Benatar--many favorites from my youth, and I was able to push myself in a good way.

--I caught up with some friends by having some brunch at their house.  It was good to reconnect, but it makes me feel a bit sad to realize how many friends I have that are more and more far-flung.  It's no longer a matter of connecting by walking down the hall to an office or classroom.

--My spouse was feeling depressed for a variety of reasons, chief among them the various things around the house that were defying his attempts to fix them.  So we took a trip to World Market, a place in southeast Hollywood we've never explored.  It was a bit claustrophobic on a Saturday with lots of people there.  But we picked up some interesting items, along with the mushrooms that we needed for a recipe.  If you ever need any pickled vegetable, World Market is for you.

--I had time to return to the world of Margaret Drabble.  The Radiant Way is as wonderful as I remember.

--My spouse and I took a walk to the marina, but my heavens, it was a scorcher of a day.  So we spent some time in the pool afterwards.

--I had thought we might get to bed early, but our PBS station was showing Walk the Line.  I had forgotten how compelling that movie is--and how cataclysmically sad.  Who will be my generation's Johnny Cash and June Carter, worthy of a movie?  Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love?  I would see that movie.

Notes from a Strange Week

--I am seeing/reading/hearing people paying tribute to Denis Johnson by talking about how much his work meant to them.  I tried to read Jesus' Son after seeing the movie.  I remember feeling puzzled, but not moved, the way so many people are.  Perhaps I should try again.  I used to feel the same way about Raymond Carver, and then a friend told me how much "A Small, Good Thing" had meant to her.  I'd read it before and not been impressed, but I read it again--and was blown away.

--I am much sadder about the loss of Zbigniew Brzezinski--what an amazing analyst/creator of foreign policy.

--In terms of national news, I'm beginning to think that some folks are going to end up in jail for treason.  Setting up a secret channel of communication--with the Russians?????  What alternate world do these people live in?  The news headlines are beyond anything I could imagine if I was trying to create a corrupt administration in a fictional world of my creating.  It makes me feel like my imagination has shriveled up somewhere along the way.

--I heard a quote from someone in the intelligence sector--maybe former CIA director Brennan.  The person talked about how often people find themselves on a path that leads to treason before they even realize they're headed towards treason.  But setting up a secret communication channel--when is that ever a good idea?

--Happily, my work does not seem to have set me on a path to treason.  This week was a tough one for faculty at my college--lots of people out, so I did some teaching for some classes (Humanities), while making arrangements for others (like Math).  It was fun to be in a physical classroom again, not an online classroom.  The students give me hope for the future, unlike our current political leaders.

--And now, a 3 day week-end!  I haven't had a week day off since Jan. 2--and almost every week has had me working 45-60 hours in the office--not to mention the nights I wake up at 1:30 with my head full of stuff that won't let me sleep.  I am very ready for a day off--and most week-end, I can sleep; it's the nights before I have to go to work in the morning where my brain seems overengaged.

--What will I do with a 3 day week-end?  Why, chores, of course.  The weeds have overtaken the yard, and we're still troubleshooting the pool.  And the cordless lawnmower has finally stopped holding a charge.  Sigh. 

--But let me not get lost in chore woe.  Let me remember that I will have time for delights too.  There will be some wine and cheese.   And there will be some brunch, I think.

--Hopefully there will also be some time to read.  My friend and I have decided to read Drabble's The Radiant Way (which in my head I've been calling The Realms of Gold).   Sure, I could read Denis Johnson--but I'd rather read Margaret Drabble.

The Buyer's Remorse of God and Other Poetry Ideas

I have been up since just before 2 a.m. (I went to bed at 8, so it's not as bad as it sounds).  While I wouldn't want to do this every morning, there are times when I like getting up that early.  I get a lot done.

I woke up thinking about the accreditation update, but I can't write that here.  So, I graded the two items that had just come due in my online class--it's an intense class, with students turning in 4-9 pieces that need grading each week.

I prepared a poetry submission for the Beloit Poetry Journal, only to find out that submissions aren't being accepted until June 1--which isn't very far away.  I wrote a bit on a short story.  And then, a poem came to me.

We are at the 4 year anniversary of buying our house; we are at the one year anniversary of finding out that our cottage resident would be moving to Utah.

I do not feel buyer's remorse, but every year, as insurance bills start arriving in the mail, I do wonder how long we can afford to live here.  This morning, I wondered if God ever has buyer's remorse.  I thought about our planet as a house in need of constant repair.  I wrote a poem.

I envision God as having irritation at being able to see the potential in a place, but not being able to quite pull off the transformations that should be possible.  I look at my temporary kitchen and think about ways that the permanent kitchen might be better.  We have the money set aside.  All I need is the time to get some estimates--and to move into the cottage for the reconstruction period.  And before that can happen, we'll need to get the space ready . . . and the floors fixed . . .  .  And then the largeness of the task overwhelms me.  I imagine God feeling the same way.

If I carry this metaphor onward, does that mean that humans are God's contractors?  I could make that work.  Some contractors know what they are doing.  Others will take the money and vanish.

My poem ends at the end of the day with God having a glass of wine on the front porch as the sun sets. 

I also experimented with a different poem.  I have spent much of my work week filling forms with information that's on other forms that can't talk to each other.  Yesterday, I said, "In my next career, I don't want to have to deal with Excel.  When I run away to my goat farm, I will keep a ledger the old fashioned way, on paper, written in pen."  I then spun out a fantasy of goats and soap and upscale markets and old trucks.

"When I run away to my goat farm" has become the same kind of shorthand that I once expressed as "When I run away to theology school."  That phrase about theology school made a good poem--I'm still not quite there with the goat farm.

Well, I will let it percolate a bit--now I must head off to school.  But first, spin class--Future Kristin would want me to go.

More on Drabble's "The Dark Flood Rises"

In retrospect, I should have made up a list of pseudonyms for my friends--or just referred to them by first name.  I met a friend for dinner last night--in some posts, I've called her my Hindu friend, in some my writing friend, in some, I've referred to books we're reading together.  When I first started blogging in 2008, I wanted to protect everyone's privacy.  Do I still need to do that?

But I don't want to explore that topic this morning.  This morning, I want to remember the wonderful dinner we had last night.  We met at Panera, one of our favorite places, where we can both find something to eat.  We had both read Margaret Drabble's The Dark Flood Rises, and we wanted to discuss it.

We both loved it, which makes a discussion much easier for me.  My friend asked a provocative question:  which character would you most like to be?  Or, alternately, which character is most like you?  We agreed that Josephine is the one to be:  she lives in a lovely senior home designed to make residents feel like they're back in college, she has a research project, she reads, on and on I could go.  We agreed that Fran is not who we want to be:  driving all over England, living in a slightly seedy walk-up apartment, making meals for her ex-husband--who has a nurse, for pity's sake!

We talked about these characters who seem to be closer to friends who are nearby than to family--the subject of the children of these women might be fascinating, but we didn't really discuss them.  My friend asked if geography makes our families.  It's an important question.  Right now, my family members can all fly to each other relatively easily--what happens when that changes?

My friend seemed slightly appalled at the way the mothers in the novel have just let their children go to lead far-flung lives.  She has a daughter in law school, and I chose not to have children.  I know that she hopes to live close to her daughter and even to provide child care as the years go on, if there are grandchildren (that if clause is mine; most parents I know assume that their children will have children).

We talked about whether or not the book is ultimately sad--while it's a madcap, funny tour of the different types of old age we see around us, ultimately, it's not a pleasant view of growing older.  Has such a book been written?  We couldn't think of any.

Should we write one?  Can we?  We're both about 20 years younger than Drabble's protagonists.  I am loving the collection of short stories that I'm writing, so I'll keep working on that:  Activists at 50.  My friend thought that was a great title.  She encouraged me to send it out.  I keep thinking I still have stories to write--but I will always think that. 

This week-end I'll see how many pages I have--just out of curiosity.

Of course, even if I decide the collection is ready to send out--to whom shall I send it?  Once I would have had a long list.  Now, I just don't know.

The skies had been darkening with storm clouds, so we called it a night.  As we drove away from each other, the skies opened up and the rain swept over the road.  Luckily, as I drove east, I drove out of it. 

I kept my eyes on the road, but I really wanted to be watching the skies, where dark clouds swirled and advanced and blew here and there.  It looked like a movie scene.  But I knew that if I looked up, I'd be lost in both wonder and terror.  I want to make it to old age, not to be dead on the highway, so I hurried onward and made it home before the storms got to my part of the county.

I slept soundly--ah, the joys of a nourishing evening, spent with a good friend, discussing a good book.  In so many ways, we are like Drabble characters--but let me save that subject for another day.  But let me record one last thought:  is it time to revisit The Radiant Way?  I last read it on a trip to England in 2003. Maybe I should revisit those characters--are they the age I am now?  Hmmm.