Link To Last Year’s Father’s Day Poem

Oh Constance…it boggles my mind how much has changed.

How much has changed…

It’s good that I knew not what would happen…and yet, no way I would go back.

Back to the bondage of those days, back to discontents concealed and blame laid up yet hidden and at the ready to be doled out…back to that skin, that servitude to a virus that has infected this entire planet and its mammon-serving economic blood.

Bruce Cockburn said this…in his amazing song “Fascist Architecture”

“you tore me outta myself alive”.

Here is the link to last year’s poem written on Father’s Day…it makes me laugh ruefully…I was so proud of it.

The Footprints of Ghosts

I was so proud of us…thinking we would be different than…better than.

Pride was my downfall, as it is for every person prideful.

Praise our God of Grace and Humility, for Their Mighty Deliverance and Salvation from the Hell of ourselves!

Why don’t you click Play on Bruce below…listen to him tell the truth, and read of my naive optimism?
Thank God that though optimism fade in the heat, Faith remains unconquerable!

One Year Ago

We were connected and vital, and love flowed
we were enough for our lack and love covered all
we heard our hearts speak louder than hate
and louder than failure and laughed in the night
and tender was our time, we thought would last


“‘They never built these places with winter in mind’
Out the window down the gray road
You can see old walled monastery
Now become a barracks for the paramilitary police”

Weekend Adventures and thoughts…part One.

This weekend, we went to be with our daughter who lives in Seattle.  She and my honey conspired to buy tickets for my daughter and I to a concert at the Neptune Theatre…Bruce Cockburn, one of our favorite singer/songwriters.

Bruce has been making music since the mid 60s and is one of the best examples I know of someone who is aging gracefully in that industry…all too often we see the preening 70 year old prancers and posers who act like 14 year old kids.  It is a sad display of futility and vanity to watch them pretend that age and maturity don’t matter.  Bruce is nearly 70 years old!  His perspective is still pretty fresh and current, his lyrics are sparkling with poetic elegance and prophetic passion, and his guitar abilities have only grown more certain.  He makes music the way the rest of us breathe.

It was a special privilege and honor to go with my daughter…she took me as her dad, and as her friend and as her protege!  I sat beside her as Bruce sang, weaving old songs that held deep meaning for me as soundtracks to my various growth stages and life lessons, seamlessly together with new songs which embodied the same themes and chronicled Bruce’s journey along through our times.  We had listened together to so much of his music, and I had intentionally not shared a lot with her as well, so she had the special thrill of discovering favorite Bruce Cockburn songs for herself.

Tears of joy and pain both flowed from my eyes…some of his music was crucial to my war against despair, and kept me company through many long dark nights of the soul where I longed for annihilation to simply end the horror of having being when I felt as if I didn’t belong and was null…his honest grappling with brokenness, desire, longing, joy, and simply persevering even though life seemed to deal nothing but hurt…all these things were tools in Lady Grace’s arsenal to keep me safe and sane.

We left the event, so happy and so bonded…no, scratch that.  We already are bonded.  We left with our bonds affirmed and blessed, and our gratitude for one another flowing generous and full.  It was a special night, an eternal experience, and I am looking forward to THAT DAY when I can go up to Bruce and thank him for his help and succor in dark and difficult days.

Read on for part 2!


Lots of thoughts about stones lately…Ecclesiates 3:5

It dawned on me…I have written 2 poems, consecutively mind you, on stones, rocks…

Ecclesiastes 3:5 is in a famous passage which is listing things for which there are times and seasons.  So many of these things are complements to one another, things which spiral around into their time, and then spiral out and lay at rest while other things take prominence.

“…a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them…”

I have loved this passage (Eccl. 3:1-8)  over the years, as it is some poetry with a bottom that I have never reached, for every time I think I have sussed them out, Mama pushes the next button and the elevator floor drops out, or the ceiling blows off.  They are a sort of spiritual escalator into the eternal reaches of Truth, and it is our destiny and honor to search out those truths.

“It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honor of kings is to search out a matter”.

So with my creative mind occupied by stones, I naturally thought of verse 5, which speaks of a time to gather stones together and a time to cast stones away, and oh how the last year has been a casting away of stones in my life!

Things I thought I knew, things I trusted and relied on, things I assumed were axiomatic, revealed to be sandstone and crumbling upon touch…and then the hammer blows, breaking chunks and chipping off bits and pieces of long years of hurt and loss and pain and suffering and loneliness in the core…

Who I once was, which although it never felt like me for real was none the less all I knew, and therefore was a security to me…going, going, gone…

But the true me, the inner me which managed to survive and is now beginning to come out like the lambs in spring from the stalls…she has been walking, I think, together with Mama, and rock hounding!

“PRETTY!” she says, and picks up another, and another, and soon I am finding a sort of stability returning, understandings, awareness…stones!  Piled, stacked, set in ways that are strange and alien and yet at the same time like old comfortable shoes…they just fit.

The real quest in this broken sphere is to get in synch with that time, season…when it is time to gather, resist the gravity which will seek to get you to cast away, and when it is time to cast away, open your hand and resist the urge to clamp down, clench down and be a miser with the things which must go.

I am Charissa Grace.

I am under the Mercy, and I am OK!