Finding Church

Many people leave the church; many return.

Coming November 2012

My story, Jumper Cables, is included in the new book, Finding Church (Stories of Leaving, Returning, Changing & Transforming) coming in November from Civitas Press.

I’m in the “returning” camp.

It’s a story about imperfection; a human trait that will never be in short supply.

Grateful again that my words will go further than my own laptop.

Imperfectly yours,

Mary

Tiaras and Rhinestones

One more week till Mothers’ Day!

An early Happy Mothers’ Day wish to all the great moms out there that encourage their children to be the best that they can be as individuals.

A Cup of Comfort for Mothers is full of touching and bittersweet stories from daughters, sons, and mothers from all across the country.

You can read a story about my mom (via link below to Googlebooks) on page 85.

Tiaras and Rhinestones

a poem from the dark side

Hole in the Ground

photo by flickr eponym

I am in my hole

I am living in my hole

And I’m stayin’

‘cause I like it

No one can see me

and I am safe from every tossed stone

I know one day I will emerge

with sharpened claws and a

compass in my pocket

But, for now, I am comforted

by the sweet pungent scent of cool dirt and

the knowing fact that

in here, it is impossible

to fall

(c) mary cm phillips

Aurora Leigh

Through the open arms of God.

‘There’s nothing great
Nor small,’ has said a poet of our day,
(Whose voice will ring beyond the curfew of eve
And not be thrown out by the matin’s bell)
And truly, I reiterate, . . nothing’s small!

No lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee,
But finds some coupling with the spinning stars;
No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere;
No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim:

And,–glancing on my own thin, veined wrist,–
In such a little tremour of the blood
The whole strong clamour of a vehement soul
Doth utter itself distinct.

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries… 

Excerpt from Aurora Leigh

 –  Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

The Flower

Once in a golden hour

I cast to earth a seed.
Up there came a flower,
The people said, a weed.

To and fro they went
Thro’ my garden-bower,
And muttering discontent
Cursed me and my flower.

Then it grew so tall
It wore a crown of light,
But thieves from o’er the wall
Stole the seed by night.

Sow’d it far and wide
By every town and tower,
Till all the people cried
`Splendid is the flower.’

Read my little fable:
He that runs may read.
Most can raise the flowers now,
For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough,
And some are poor indeed;
And now again the people
Call it but a weed.

–  Alfred Lord Tennyson

Five Minute Friday; Together

Five Minute Friday.  

painting: derek mccrea

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.

2. Link back to The Gypsy Mama.com and invite others to join in.

3. Go a little overboard encouraging the writer who linked up before you.

Today’s word:  Together

*   *   *

Together; as in not apart but one.  I like that poem which I can’t remember but it mentions two streams becoming one.  Not the one about Oregon.  And “they flowed into one river” which now sounds like a Bruce Springsteen song.

A lot of his songs mention rivers.  Rivers this and rivers that and aren’t rivers nice.  Rivers, rivers, rivers.  Not a fan of the boss…

Together.  One.  Parts that make up a whole.  There are so many parts in the world that make up this one earth.

Like a big garden.

I’m working on my garden this week; planting tomatoes, peppers and basil together with zinnias and sunflowers; should they decide to bloom.  A beautiful mess.

I’ve sadly pulled up many a sunflower in the past — thinking they were weeds — like the Tennyson poem, and hope my inattention yields to flowers and not people; as his poem I think suggests.

Yellow; red; blue.  Primary colors.  Three.

The three together through a prism making one light,

Like the Light of world.

Five Minute Friday: Good-bye

Five Minute Friday.  

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.

2. Link back to The Gypsy Mama.com and invite others to join in.

3. Go a little overboard encouraging the writer who linked up before you.

Today’s word:  Good-bye

*   *   *

It is not a happy day on my block.

A neighbor died.  A good man.  Cancer.  I did not say good-bye as I didn’t know the seriousness of his condition.

I will miss his smile.  His conversation. His laugh.

I don’t like good-byes.

Another neighbor, a younger woman, with two young children went in the hospital on Easter.  She too, has cancer.  When I saw her on Easter, I had visited that morning along with my son — and cake pops from the bunny — and it was sunny outside — and pink sprang from the ground with the new life that Easter promises was all around and the irony of it all was thick, so thick.  We went again, later in the afternoon; I thought about saying goodbye, but thought it rude.

I don’t like good-byes.  I like “see you laters.”

I’m counting on “see you laters.”