This happiness.

"I don't want to lose a single thread

from the intricate brocade of this happiness."

-Mary Oliver

Christ minds.

"Sometimes a lantern moves along the night,
          That interests our eyes. And who goes there?
          I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where,
With, all down darkness wide, his wading light?

Men go by me whom either beauty bright
          In mould or mind or what not else makes rare:
          They rain against our much-thick and marsh air
Rich beams, till death or distance buys them quite.

Death or distance soon consumes them: wind
          What most I may eye after, be in at the end
I cannot, and out of sight is out of mind.

Christ minds; Christ's interest, what to avow or amend
          There, éyes them, heart wánts, care haúnts, foot fóllows kind,
Their ránsom, théir rescue, ánd first, fást, last friénd."

-Gerard Manley Hopkins

Theology through poetry.

.reminded, on the way home today.

"Everything is His.

The door, the door jamb.

The wood stacked near the door.

The leaves blown upon the path

that lead to the door...

the wind that is tripping them this way and that way,

the clouds that are high above them,

the stars that are sleeping now beyond the clouds

and, simply said, all the rest.

When I open the door I am so sure so sure

all this will be there, and it is.

I look around...

I turn and enter His house, and close His door."

                                                                                                         (Mary Oliver)

.my small cup of life.

loving my sunny tiny home in the spring.

loving filling it with friends and flowers.

my girls came over on sunday to help me garden.

kim went to the farm store with me the night before to help me pick the best seeds for cutting bouquets.

everyone out and about in the warmer weather

means afternoons at the park

and more spontaneous drop-by visits

(9th grade boys knocked while I was melting old wax down; so they made candles too).

potted plants and watering new green,

vases full of color in every room,

lots of dates at the town bakery, dinners and baking and walks...

i am enjoying this season.

"[The wren] delivers such a cantering praise-

for what?

For the early morning, the taste of the spider,

for his small cup of life

that he drinks from every day, knowing it will refill.

All things are inventions of holiness...

window note by Avery across the street, age 7.

left in our shared laundry room by my next door neighbor.

a 10-year-old doing homework at my kitchen table

(requested no face in the picture. note the socks.)

Fawvers made new counters. It's way exciting. I "helped" (ate their food while they worked).

...every morning, there's my own cup of gladness."

-Mary Oliver

but looking, and touching, and loving.

"Understand, I am always trying to figure out

what the soul is,

and where hidden,

and what shape-

and so, last week,

when I found on the beach

the ear bone

of a pilot whale that may have died

hundreds of years ago, I thought

maybe I was close

to discovering something-

...I believe I will never quite know.

Though I play at the edges of knowing,

truly I know

our part is not knowing,

but looking, and touching, and loving."

-Mary Oliver, "Bone"

At last count, eight inches outside my front door.

There is something
     about the snow-laden sky
          in winter
               in the late afternoon

that brings to the heart elation
     and the lovely meaninglessness
          of time.
               Whenever I get home- whenever-

somebody loves me there.
     Meanwhile,
          I stand in the same dark peace
               as any pine tree,

or wander on slowly
     like the still unhurried wind,
          waiting,
               as for a gift,

for the snow to begin
     which it does
          at first casually,
               then, irrepressibly.

Wherever else I live-
     in music, in words,
          in the fires of the heart,
               I abide just as deeply

in this nameless, indivisible place,
     this world,
          which is falling apart now,
               which is white and wild,

which is faithful beyond all our expressions of faith,
     our deepest prayers.
          Don't worry, sooner or later I'll be home.
               Red-cheeked from the roused wind,

I'll stand in the doorway,
     stamping my boots and slapping my hands,
          my shoulders
               covered with stars.

                                                                                  -Mary Oliver

.oh come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel.

Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but

still nothing is as shining as it should be

for you. Under the sink, for example, is an

uproar of mice- it is the season of their

many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves

and through the walls the squirrels

have gnawed their ragged entrances- but it is the season

when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And

the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard

while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;

what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling

in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly

up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will

come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,

the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know

that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.

-Mary Oliver

local hot buttered rum recipe: my new favorite drink.

brown paper packages; love written and sent.

seven-years-running inside jokes.

new and life-giving friendship with sweet neighbors across the street.

Know that in all these things,

really I am speaking to You.

and my heart beside.

"It's all I have to bring today-

this, and my heart beside-

this, and my heart, and all the fields-

and all the meadows wide..."

                                                          

-the other Emily