Erudite allusions

I intend to buy a book of Rachel Flynn's poems when I get the chance...I read an interview with her this evening and am still twirling around in my mind something she said about poetry:

"Poetry, for me, ultimately does not allow a refusal of what is genuine. I’m not interested in word play for the sake of cleverness or a pile of erudite allusions to suggest how learned the writer might be."

I find this part particularly agreeable. And I was interested in the fact that she grew up in a rural town in Indiana, like me.

Extemporaneous

A few impromptu happenings and notices lately have me a bit on edge. Not to say I am fearful or nervous, exactly, but everything seems to have a general roughing around the edges, metaphorically speaking.

It's a funny thing we do: choosing to concentrate on the present closely and intimately in order to avoid thoughts of future happenings. The unknown is looming, and I find myself pushing away any daydreams of what it will be like. Wait and see sounds a lot better than speculation at this point.

The military spouse. It's a strange title to assign to myself. I've been living and participating in the active duty lifestyle before, so it feels familiar. Familiarity, however, doesn't always refer to positive aspects. These terms that have come up feel cold and defunct; deployment, custody, and other words that reek of sterilized social distinction. I don't appreciate these words. They don't belong.

I'm meditating very selfishly on one principle idea: may this cup be passed. I know in comparison, my possible lot would be incomparably the lesser, so, carefully, not as I will, but as you will. Truth be told I would feel more secure omitting the last part. Let's just pass the cup, I am not a good candidate, surely there's one more deserving of this test...anything that can sneak me under the radar. But there it is, insistant, causing a need to prepare. To surrender to an authority that is mysterious, to morph plaintive questioning into willful obediance.

Priest

We've recently moved to a new church, for many good and solid reasons, and are happy there. We're going through catechism, currently, and I am enjoying it. Our priest is slightly outspoken and decidedly passionate in his teaching, while staying true to the faith. Father Keith used to be a teacher so we've been given a fair amount of assignments and threatened with various forms of rigorous grading.

My sister (who would probably call herself agnostic if she was familiar with the term) recently visited and I attempted to explain catechism, and the following confirmation. She listened, and then commented how 'it was interesting but was it in the Bible that we had to do that?' I said, well, not exactly. She replied, 'I see, it's church tradition'. But to me, it's not just tradition. It's an intelligent expression of faith, a requirement of being members of the Body, a receiving of a very important succession, and an occasion to swear further devotion to Christ as Lord and Master. I probably should have tried to explain the strengthening gifts...

I'm going to listen to volunteer radio now and dance my infant daughter around the room, reminiscent of the poem I posted about a month ago.

Four years

My husband and I have been married four years as of the past Thursday. We have four children together. I'm blissfully happy with him, and I know I could not have a better father for my children or a harder worker to provide for our family.

I can't wait for anniversary number five.

Maybe it does matter

I asked my father in law what shall I do for the Lord, now, with infants and little children? I said I can barely some days drag myself through menial everyday tasks, how am I to go out and do God's work? He said God's work for me now is already in my hands.

Teach me to love your work, Father. Even the menial tasks.