Remembrance

He's been dead for 33 years.

For my sons and I, that's impossible to believe.

His absence from our lives has been as defining
as his presence ever would have been.

I can safely say that not a day has passed 

in which one of us hasn't thought of him.

Back story:

Two months before GI Joe turned 5, he had a bad dream.

His father went in to comfort him, 

laid down with him on his bed, 

had a heart attack and died. 

He was 39.

Art Boy, 10, was having friends

spend the night for a sleepover
 in the living room.

It was supposed to be a 'normal' weekend.

Our definition of 'normal' changed forever that night 

and, for years, the nightmare from which none of us could awaken

continued.

We have lived so many lives
in this one lifetime since then.

But premature death
and the reordering of lives
 has shaped us all
in ways
 beyond our imagining.

Some things are not for everyone to know,
some lessons and gifts are only for those
who lived through it.

Suffice it to say,
it's been both a blessing
and
a curse.

Death changes so many things irrevocably;
its hard to fathom all that remains
in the aftermath.

Time for a road trip

I've tried to 'bear' it as gracefully as I can,

but I swear if I don't drive a few hundred miles every couple of months

something goes haywire in my brain!

So, you can imagine my delight when an unexpected invitation came my way

to go "up North" later this week.

I'm boarding the dog, 

having my mail held

and hitting the open road - 

with all the requisite masks and alcohol based sanitizer 

I can squeeze into the car.

 I can barely contain my excitement for an adventure
after months of confinement.

NOT that there isn't much to love here at home

but exploring a different part of the country 

always gets my adrenaline going!

I'm so grateful for the opportunity - 

and the health (so far) to say YES.

Fingers crossed it's not too big a risk.

I'll see you when I return - 

you can bet there will be pictures.

A sweet cottage all to myself near one of the Great Lakes
as we're on the cusp of fall sounds ideal.
Traveling mercies requested.

Gone, not forgotten

Marriage doesn't really make much of a story.

Maybe the beginning,

with the drama 

of which relative is most likely to get drunk and create a scene

at the wedding

or whether the faux neo-Gothic church 

or barefoot on a beach is the better setting;

maybe the end,

with the drama and the tears 

over which betrayal was the worst;

but the middle is just the daily, unending grind of life -

working, 

paying bills,

doing laundry,

watching the sun rise and set,

bumping up against the sharp edges and dull plains 

of someone a whole gender different than you.

Sharing the mundane middle 

is still what I miss the most.

And even now, 

decades after my marriage ceased to exist,

I have moments of seeing it on the horizon as it recedes further -

as if cruising along in fog,
across a vast expanse of sea;

and I
squinting,
watch as it fades completely
into the realm of 

all that used to be and is no longer.

Few people remember who I was then;
which is not surprising
since I barely remember myself.

First you have one sort of life

and then you have another.

Low grade depression

 

 I used to believe that spiritual teacher Ram Dass was onto something when he said

"We're all just walking each other home."

 That statement made sense to me; 

it spoke to my perceived reality that we're ALL on a journey 

on this earth we share,

our journeys ALWAYS involve relationships with others 

and, at our best, 

we're here to help each other out along the way.

The shattering of that perception has been, for me,

 the greatest source of sorrow during the past 4 years.

The election rhetoric which began in 2016,

and which escalates daily,

exposes as a lie the perception that "we're all in this together".

It would be convenient, though inaccurate, 

to place all responsibility for this communal decline 

at the feet of our current President. 

He is a vulgarian exceptionale,

with few redeeming qualities as far as I'm concerned.

I've certainly not hidden my feelings about him 

as the years have rolled on.

If HE was the only factor at work, 

the remedy would be simple;

get rid of him. 

 But the source of my depression has been the realization 

that a sizeable swath of the citizens with whom I share this country

also share in the inane, malignant, racist, 

bizarre and contemptible ideology 

that spews from his mouth on a daily basis.

The science deniers,

conspirators, 

anti-vaxers, 

homophobic,

white supremacists,

evangelical "bring on the end times" Christians

have fallen right in line and continue to support him 

even as our economy, standard of living and world standing plummet.

THESE folks will not be gone after the next election;

they will continue to be an integral part of our country 

for the foreseeable future.

How could I possibly trust them to 'walk me home'

when they're not even willing to wear a mask to protect others at risk?;

when they make clear to anyone who will listen that only 

their lives, 

their privilege, 

their health and

their desires

matter.

And, how dare anyone hold them accountable for the selfishness of their actions.

Still looking for glimmers of light in the darkness,

but, after 4 years, my eyes grow weary -

and I'm tired of looking.

In times such as these

blessed are you who are raging.

blessed are you who are mourning.

blessed are you who feel numb.

blessed are you who feel sick. and tired. and sick and tired.

blessed are you who refuse to turn away.

blessed are you who need to turn away.

blessed are you who keep breathing deep.

blessed are you who are tending to your own needs.

blessed are you who are tending to the needs of another.

blessed are you who have been calling.

blessed are you who have been organizing.

blessed are you who have been testifying.

blessed are you who have been hearing.

blessed are you who have been resisting.

blessed are you who feel broken open beyond repair.

blessed are you who are raw beyond words.

blessed are you who are working hotlines and crisis care centers 

and bearing witness to the forces of violence and trauma unleashed and unloosed.

blessed are you who are marching.

blessed are you who are weeping.

blessed are you who preach
and know that divinity resides in despised, abused, violated flesh.

blessed are you who know deep in your bones that you are good. and beautiful. 

and beloved. and sacred. and worthy. and believed. 

and held. and capable of healing beyond your wildest imagination.

blessed are you who remind others they are good. and beautiful. 

and beloved. and sacred. and worthy. and believed. 

and held. and capable of healing beyond their wildest imagination.

blessed are we when we dare to dream of a world without sexual violence, 

without white supremacy, without misogyny, without police brutality, 

without anti-trans and anti-queer violence.

blessed are we when we stay tender.

blessed are we when we stay fierce.

blessed are we when we dare to imagine repair, and transformation.

blessed are we when we labor together to make it so.

Rev. Anna Blaedel