Thursday, December 31, 2009

Spirit

You were with me but I could not understand
You spoke not a word as you led the way
Through the aisles, through the door
You took me to the temple
And I thought it odd – it was not like you
But it was you just the same
Silently, you showed me how to give
And in silence I received
I turned to see you sitting, head in hands
But when I looked again you were gone
It was then I realized you left this world
These nine months ago
How can this be?
When I awoke, I was compelled
Not afraid nor filled with remorse…
Rather, blessed for having open eyes
To see you again
Just one more time


tjp 12/19/09

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Six Years Later…

… and much has changed. There is no fireplace; there is no snow… no walk in the rain through the quiet town with friendly greetings that belie the inclement weather.

With gratitude, we welcome some cooler weather (some would laugh at what we consider cooler) that is far more conducive to believing this is actually Christmas week. I consider decorating a palm tree with surfboard and camp shirt lights to be a major bit of acceptance on my part. But this is where we are and this is where will stay (for now) so it is either fight it or accept and go along… I choose acceptance.

What is most important, however, is what has not changed. Sitting in silence, closing my eyes, I can still hear it. A gentle breeze, the sounds of Christmas music, the smells of baking… but more important is the feeling within… Memory is strong and tugs at things to remain unchanged. What I knew to be Christmas – the cold, the snow, the smell of pine and the warmth of a fire – impose upon what is real, what is really to the point.

Christmas may live in memory, but it also lives in the present. Pine trees or Palm trees, snow or sand… it is not important. The spirit that lives within knows not of these things, nor cares. It is in the heart, it is in the spirit, it is in all that we allow ourselves to recognize when we put the external distractions out of the way.

Six years ago, Father Jon made me smile with his open arms that made me feel welcome in a place where I was a stranger. Today, the memory makes me smile despite feeling a stranger in a place stranger still. Maybe it makes me smile because of it.


Merry Christmas