Translating a World on the Edge

Once a month, when I was about thirteen years old, I used to accompany a friend to The Cove Hotel in Panama City, Florida, where her father did the books for the elderly lady who owned the hotel. But even then, The Cove was older than she was. Built in 1926, it was two stories of pink stucco, surrounded by huge trees, and set on the shore of St, Andrews Bay off the Gulf of Mexico. I thought it was beautiful.

For my trips to the Cove, my mother made sure I took the proper clothing. That meant a dress for dinner, along with the right shoes. Usually, that was a sun dress and strappy white sandals. Dinner was served at a certain time, on spotless white tablecloths, with starched white napkins and a lot of heavy silverware, properly set. My friend and I felt like princesses. But always, there was something we looked forward to that was even better. The Miracle. And we could make it happen ourselves. (more…)

The body does not hold the soul;

The soul holds the body.

It is not within, but without.

It is present, past, and future.

It is always.

It has no need of space or time.

It is Spirit.

The body decays,

The soul displays

The meaning of life.

And its echo resounds in a risen people.

 Hear this, and pass it on.

                    

I’ve entitled my blog “A World on the Edge” for a reason. I believe our world, created by God, is in many ways eroding. Nowhere is this more evident than in the present fight for religious freedom all over the world. And now, the fight comes to our beloved America, founded on principles of liberty that reflect the individual rights God gave each one of us: One of the basic rights is Freedom OF Religion. Not Freedom FROM Religion. That means your religion and mine.  (more…)

Sometimes I’m a whiner. I complain about a negative situation, even find comfort in my complaints, yet I do nothing to fix the problem. That’s when I remember the Crow.

There was a Crow, half-dead with thirst, who came upon a Pitcher which had once been full of water; but when the Crow put its beak into the mouth of the Pitcher he found that only very little water was left in it, and that he could not reach far enough down to get at it. He tried, and he tried, but at last gave up in despair and went off whining, “I need some water, but nothing good ever happens for me!” Of course, he became thirstier and thirstier. (more…)

I am going to a funeral today, a Mass of Christian Burial. I am going to celebrate a life lived in a marriage that lasted over seven decades.

I am going to share in the rhythm of Mass, its recitation of prayers and rituals that echo back through the years to a little white church made of bricks, much smaller, much closer than today.

I am going with memories sliding through my thoughts like the moon passing behind the branches of pines.

I am going to a burial ground that is sacred, a spot where those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith await resurrection.

I am going to a hill where I’ll step near my own parents, grandparents, other relatives and friends.

I am going to the inevitable closing of life on earth to the opening of life everlasting.

I am going to a funeral today.

Be at rest once more, O my soul,

for the LORD has been good to you.

— Psalm 116:7

With soaped-up windows

Scrawled with words

They start their past

Free-flying

Fast along the highway.

Blurred between indistinguishable forests,

Behind watermelon trucks and Mercedes,

Behind boys and dogs with flapping ears waving

Like worn grey flags. (more…)

Last night, my three year old granddaughter spent the night with me. Her father, who has full custody, and her grandfather, my husband, left yesterday on a business trip. My granddaughter has spent many nights here, in a room we call hers, but last night she slept in my bed for the first time. I swear that child has the sharpest bones God ever made, from her elbows to her knees–and the sweetest goodnight kisses.

For the last two and a half years, I’ve been the only mother she has. Her own mother left her. This is out-of-the-ordinary in our family. I have eight other grandchildren, all with wonderfully present mothers, while this child has only an idea of ‘mother.’ And more and more, it comes to the forefront of her mind, almost like a ghost wandering around in her soul.

Don’t we all have those ghosts though? None of us are one hundred percent satisfied with ourselves, or our lives. At one time or another, don’t we all sense something missing, some ghost in our soul that would bring us to completion? (more…)

I have two close friends with whom I meet regularly for lunch. One is a fellow Catholic, and not a native Southerner. I’ll call her Beth. The other is a Protestant I’ve known most of my life. I’ll call her Bonnie. I love and trust them both. We have a lot in common; a love of books and art, children and grandchildren. We talk about all these, but sometimes our conversations center around a subject that so-called experts caution not to talk about in order to avoid disagreement: religion.

In this, we are open with each other. We dialogue, as they say. Beth, with her academic mind very apparent, and Bonnie, her blue eyes flashing all the wonderful traditions of the South. I think of myself as somewhat of a mediator in our conversations, a balance.  (more…)