“Dear God. Not again.” Shelly blew out a loud sigh and tapped on the glass next to Chewbaka, hoping this time it would jump up, or yawn, or even twitch. Nothing. She unlatched the top door of the cage and reached past the Chewbaka-sized ramp and running wheel to where the little animal lay snuggled […]
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My mom, Dorothy Stenstedt, died on May 19, 2022, and we had her Celebration of Life on August 14—first a church service, then a party. Here’s what I said at the service.
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I’ve received two beautiful ones in email, and I’m sharing them here. If you know of more, please send them to me. I find them helpful and comforting during this strange time.
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A friend requested “I am from” poems for her birthday. This is mine.
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A few years ago my inner critic was not only speaking to me a lot, but it was also easier than usual for me to “hear.” What I mean is that I was able to notice my critic’s voice in real time and write down what it said. During that time I always kept a […]
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The image on the cover of Shirley du Boulay’s An Extraordinary Life is from an 18th c. painting, and as in all famous images of Teresa of Avila, Teresa is lovely, and maybe 17. So when I read what she looked like when she got to the point in her life where she had real authority, it made me wish there were icons of her looking like this:
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In “The Bowl of Roses” (full text below), the poet Rilke spends eight lines painting an ugly picture. And then:
But now you know how these things are forgotten:
for here before you stands a bowl full of roses…
Thus begin sixty-four exquisite lines of instruction on how these things are forgotten.
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The Favor
(for Cookie the neighbor cat)
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I gaze at the heavens,
searching for you, my God.
(Ps. 123:1, ICEL Psalter)
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Early this year I had a short episode of almost-but-not-quite depression, and it arrived along with an image of what happens for me during the worst of those times, which hasn’t happened for almost 20 years: A giant boot descends and plants itself on my chest, and I’m unable to move or negotiate. It’s enormous, […]
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