Monday, October 9, 2017

September Blessings

After a chilly rainy start to September 
     following a cooler than usual summer, 
     as discouragement was taking hold - and emptiness -
     a balmy warm amazing week.

I soaked it in.  Spent much of it working 
     either on the front or back porch or in the garden.  
Into the evening.  It was delicious.  
I tried to memorize it against 
       the inevitable winter to come. 

I just stayed out there and let it bless me.  And it did.  
Twice, neighbors stopped by to chat
      - easing the isolation. 

And all it took was being outdoors, visible, and
      looking up with a smile when someone said hi.

JoMae
9/9/17

Monday, October 2, 2017

Broken Harmony


Your desire will be for your husband,
and he will rule over you. Gen 3:16b NIV
~~Broken Harmony~~

When I consider the fall and it’s consequences, 
how Godde foresaw that the man would now rule 
over the woman yet her desire would be for him, 

I see examples of brokenness in need of 
healing by the promised Messiah. 
Not only was male dominance a result of sin, 
so too was women’s longing for him in spite of it.   

Generation after generation Christians have 
confessed our sins and promised anew 
to live as Jesus taught us to.  
As Godde meant for us to be.  

We have used endless gifts of intelligence to discover
 and harness secrets of creation to enrich our lives.
To ease the pain of childbirth for instance, 
yet patriarchal dominance remains 

We are  mindful always of Christ’s enormous gift 
and sacrifice to bring us near to Godde.
Yet I wonder if we haven’t missed 
a great part of Jesus' gift.

The modeling of how we are to treat each other.
Jesus, the Promised Messiah, born a male mortal, 
did not dominate, did not demean or misuse women.
Rather, he listened and interacted with respect.

We still have much to learn as image bearers of
 our Creator. As redeemed children of Godde
 striving to live as folks redeemed and healing
 from the brokenness of sin.
                                                              JoMae
                                                              10/1/17

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Birther Godde

As we reflect Godde’s love, as we teach and praise our Beloved Maker, as we serve the ONE who rules our lives, let us not limit the essence of the Divine Mystery with language that pictures our Loving Godde as if only and exclusively male.

You deserted the Rock, who fathered you; 
you forgot the God who gave you birth.  
Deut 32:18 NIV
~~Remember The Godde Who Gave Us Birth~~

Aside from the gender inequity inherent in our world, one reason I find myself determined not to use exclusive language for Godde, is that it diminishes our view of the endless enormity of the Divine.  It shrinks our understanding of the ONE reflected by all created in  Godde’s  image, to honoring only a portion of Godde’s amazing being.

Words draw pictures in our heads, engrave them on our minds and in the hearts of our children. A traditional Sunday morning full of quotes from male theologians, numerous references to our Heavenly Father, Lord, King etc. - and multiple uses of he, his, and him, reinforces the patriarchal picture.

A typical message about Godde tends to render invisible and mute both the feminine face of theGodde who gave us birth and the daughters who bear the divine image along with their brothers

     ~~Prayer~~
Heavenly FatherMother, 
Please speak to our hearts
Whisper your truths to ponder
that we may know you more fully
that we may serve you more truly
As we walk in the Holy Name of
Jesus Christ
Amen
JoMae
10/1/17

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Good Morning World

Good Morning World

On the front porch at dawn
watching the world wake up
greeting ‘good morning’ to folks
walking by with their dogs

after saying goodbye to visiting 
family off on a long journey home
I stay here with my coffee and words
offering a a thankful hello to 
A New Day

                                       JoMae
                                        9/27/17 

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Dawn


A Savored Memory

One early August morning, 
the summer of John’s death, 
in that sleepy state of half awake, 
I caught a glimpse of him 
neatly dressed for the day, 
walking around the end of our bed, 
over to my side.  

The vision quickly vanished.
yet remains engraved  -
a gift that brought to mind 
an early morning moment captured
many years ago in this small poem:

 ~~ DAWN ~~

Up at dawn 
he gently tucked her with the sheet
and fixed it where the mattress corner
had come undone above her head

then slipping out
went down to put the coffee on

He did not know

that in her semi conscious morning sleep
she was aware
and felt the precious oil of his love
flow through her veins

 a secret blessing

JoMae
7/29/88

                              

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Broken Puzzzle

Year after year John' Prize Geraniumr blooms

“Past Life Lives in the Living”   —Wendell Barry  

I’ve been reading Barry’s “Sabbath Poems” these days.  They speak to the pondering that goes on within as I pick up the pieces scattered about by the earthquake that took John and left my own core scattered in the wind.  These jigsaw cells, once us, now strewn, must be collected and re-configured to discover whose were whose and which live on. And how.  It is a puzzle. A broken puzzle.

 Broken Puzzle

Putting the pieces back together
when half have disappeared
is almost impossible

Yet hearts, they say, do mend
though not without deep scar 
tissue filling gaps of

Missing Pieces

JoMae
9/10/17 

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Holding Hands



YOUR HANDS

Sitting in this room alone
I feel my hand in yours
As surely as if we’re on an evening walk
Strolling down the street  together

I feel your palm
Quite course from woodworking
Soft fuzz on the back of your hand
Your fingers squeezing mine 
In fond recognition of 
Loving commeradarie

I know your hand entwined in mine
Now resting on the sheet 
Swollen strange and puffed
At the end of an arm full of tubes
As you lay dying

Those young strong hands  
Now elderly and frail and still
Baseball hands. Swinging golf clubs
Draftsman’s hands, always designing
A gardener’s hands, a craftsman

I have the work of your hands all around me
In this old home you refurbished 
Your carpenter hands creating beauty
Were the hands of a dad who could fix anything

Beloved hands
I feel them on my cheek and 
Wish them in my hair and 
Everywhere
Your hands holding me
Our hands holding each other 
For almost 60 years

JoMae
8/21/17