Heart of Whimsy !

  I would not ask for riches. I would not ask for glory, nor power, nor answers to the riddles of stars. But let me see them again. Let me reach through the veil and find my mother’s voice, the light in my father’s eyes, the warmth of friends I buried too soon. And when I go, let those I leave behind walk toward me one day on a road that does not end.

(Reverently, of Course) I often speak with God, and I don’t mince my words. Not out of pride, but because I figure He already knows the words I won’t say— and those are the ones that matter most. I don’t bring Him polished hymns, or prayers pre-approved by polite society. I bring Him my gut, my gravel, my questions scraped raw on the edge of the world. I’ve asked Him why evil sleeps in silken sheets and children cry out in gutters. I’ve asked Him where He was when faith was used like a whip. I’ve asked Him what kind of gardener plants a tree He knows will be bitten. And still, He listens. Not like a judge with a gavel, but like a Father who remembers when I was stardust and silence and the sigh before breath. I don’t fear Him— I revere Him. And that’s why I speak plain. Because if I can’t tell the truth to the One who is Truth, then what is faith but a cage lined with scripture? No— I speak, and He answers in wind, in waiting, in the thunder behind my ribs that says: “Speak again. I’m ...

  They say, “Don’t ask,” as if my questions wound Him— as if the Infinite cannot bear my finite, trembling why. But He walks with me in the garden of my wondering, where each question blooms like a wildflower in morning light. I do not fear His silence, nor the thunder of His voice— for whether He answers, or only holds my gaze, He knows my heart. When I ask of Eden, of evil, of pain— when I wonder if love was ever enough— He does not flinch. He shaped my seeking. He taught me to long. And even in doubt, He knows my heart. Not all fires are rebellion. Some flames refine. And if I carry kindling, it is only to see the face of I Am more clearly. So let them accuse me of stepping past the line— but He walks beside me still, unafraid of my questions. He knows. And that is enough.

April 29, 2017 Tranquility, your soothing peace, gentle calm and blessing Grant us joy and never cease your gift that hearts be resting. 

Mama! Though you sleep in Divine care, Your repose is but eternity’s prelude. Your mortal form discarded and yet you live ! Countless seeds you planted with each act of selfless care. Your spirit’s garden does  flower indeed! As do we four,  who guard your legacy in communion with your very soul. We are the mirrors who hold your image captive, in every deed, every breath, every beat of our hearts, You live on! And in our reflections, your visage casts love’s beauty. That is our pride and our holy prayer.

This Swedish version of the Lord's Prayer was retrieved from a church in Sweden during a family visit. Fader vår, som är i himmelen! Helgat varde ditt namn; tillkomme ditt rike; ske din vilja såsom i himmelen så ock på jorden; vårt dagliga bröd giv oss i dag; och förlåt oss våra skulder, såsom ock vi förlåta dem oss skyldiga äro; och inled oss inte i frestelse, utan fräls oss ifrån ondo ty riket är ditt och makten och härligheten i evighet. Amen.

( With thanks to my friend and schoolmate, Madeleine Lavoie Vrona for recovering these French versions of the Rosary prayers. We certainly recited these more times than we can remember throughout our years at St. Anne School. ) Notre Père, qui êtes aux cieux; Que votre nom soit sanctifié; Qui votre règne arrive; Que votre volonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel; Donnez-nous aujourd'hui notre pain de chaque jour; Pardonnez-nous nos offenses comme nous pardonnons à ceux qui nous ont offensés; Et ne nous laissez pas succomber à la tentation. Mais délivrez-nous du mal. Ainsi soit-il. Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce, Le Seigneur est avec vous. Vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes, et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni. Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu, priez pour nous pécheurs, maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort. Ainsi soit-il Gloire au Père, et au Fils et au Saint-Esprit. Comme il était au commencement, et maintenant et toujour...