Sacred Threshold ::

Thanksgiving Meal

Tomorrow the boys cook their first turkey dinner. This new family tradition should provide some much needed comic relief to the long stay of confinement of the last months. As Isaac has said "It's about time we learn how to cook a turkey." Leave it to Isaac to think practically when faced with a new challenge. 

I think I will miss the hubbub of cooking the meal myself. Even today as Bob left with the grocery list of last minute items, I am grieving the loss of going to the store myself this year to pick up the "bird." It is an odd thing this illness. The grieve comes in snatches, catching you unawares and then, surprisingly, there it is, another loss, another something different once again. 

My goal is to relax and enjoy the day. Keeping it all in perspective. Giving thanks for the little things and watching my boys figure out what I actually have been doing all these years in the kitchen. : )

Acedia

Acedia--or the noonday demon as the ancients called it--haunts even the best of us. In Kathleen Norris' new book on "Acedia," she intimately reveals her lifetime struggle with the force which tempts us to give up and give in to our least best self succumbing to defining life as restless boredom. As a Norris junkie as of late, her prose gives to me, the reader, unique insight into the snide demon of acedia through personal story and researched primary texts.

I am struck by her candor in revealing the saga of her husband's illness and death, not only in its facts but her reaction to it as a caregiver. I have not heard her "speak" this way before in other books or maybe I just missed it before. She speaks truth with care, not complaining or avoiding, but straight and clear. 

As a person who is ill, the book's words are a healing place in both their eloquence and ability to turn my heart again to God. It may be the intimacy I find within the pages or the power of her voice which sounds familiar and like home to me that is the balm to my soul. For whatever reason, I do know it is a good book and I find God's peace and comfort as I read. 

Acedia Interview on MPR

Another Week

Another week has past. This time it brought another chemo regimen which is shorter in receiving and not so toxic on my body. Other than fatigue--I am getting really good at taking naps--and some nausea, the chemo didn't take me down so low as before. For this I am glad. I feel well enough to think ahead a bit which feels healthy both psychologically as well as spiritually.

I am relieved for the change. It is good to have parts of my brain and body functioning again. It is amazing how you begin to normalize being sick as the way life is and will always be. I don't have great expectations for the coming eleven weeks but at least there may be some getting up and around a bit more in my future.

Again, for the small gifts of each day, I am grateful.

Waiting

The Sacrament of Waiting by Macrina Wiederkehr

Slowly
she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.
First she surrendered her green,
then the orange, yellow, and red
finally she let go of her brown.
Shedding her last leaf
she stood empty and silent, stripped bare.
Leaning against the winter sky
she began her vigil of trust.
Shedding her last leaf
she watched its journey to the ground.
She stood in silence
wearing the color of emptiness,
her branches wondering;
How do you give shade with so much gone?
And then,
the sacrament of waiting began.
The sunrise and sunset watched with tenderness.
Clothing her with silhouettes
they kept her hope alive.
They helped her understand that
her vulnerability,
her dependence and need,
her emptiness,
her readiness to receive
were giving her a new kind of beauty.
Every morning and every evening they stood in silence
and celebrated together
the sacrament of waiting.

Source: Inward/Outward

Psalm 139 Adaptation

Here is a gift I received from a friend...

Psalm 139

If I settle on the far side of the sea.....
Where O where is the far side of the sea?
If I make my bed in the depths,
even there You blanket me
 
If I inside a reeded basket
float along the enemies' river
gentle as a sisters' face
on the rivers' edge You follow me
Where O where is the far side of the sea?
where You walk water
and sinking, I am of unbelief
there in doubt is the far away side
and You swimming close until the movement of the whole world is under my feet
what should I fear of a wave or a death
If I am lost as a seed in a field of wheat,
tears threatening to wash me away
even there You will carry me out in a song
 
and if I am dying a nails and thorns and lashes death
even there Your voice will come up through me
never ceasing to ask "why O why the far side of the sea?"
 
O where can I go from Your Spirit ?
to avenues
to caves
to kisses
to arguments
to sin woven deep in the Sacrifice
 
Even there Your right hand will not let go of holding me
 
If I become settled, ashored and away on the far side of the sea
 
there You are
O there You are with me
  

~S.Frantz

Shingling

Tuesday I was diagnosed with shingles. The first day was horrid--chills, fever, and the tell tale rash. As soon as the drugs kicked in, the fever broke and I felt not so flu-ish.

Today is Saturday and the lesions weep and sting miserably. I am hoping I am about to hit the bottom of this cycle soon. The things they don't tell you when you go on chemo...