gritty monuments
gritty monuments to perseverance emerge from salts of the earth
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 July 2017
Image of Bryce Canyon, Utah, found at Pixabay.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Grit
Telling the Truth
connecting the dots of my life
July 11, 2017
July 10, 2017
How to write my life backwards
No one ever taught me to do this. Not directly. Yet I find myself wanting to write my life backwards. And with a feather, no less!
I’ve already written many posts on my childhood, youth and beyond. I drew on memories, records and old photos to describe my interior life along the way and how all that affected me as an adult.
It’s one thing to describe and reflect upon my experience as a traumatized child in a Christian family. Just doing that has been more daunting and rewarding than I ever dreamed it would be.
Yet when I read what I wrote three years ago, I’m aware of perspectives I didn’t consider back then. I want to name and explore them. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the little girl and young woman I was back then.
Here’s a small example from one of my first posts. In The Shopkeeper, I describe what happened to me that day, how I felt, and how I concluded that I didn’t really need to tell my parents about it and why. I dreaded, for good reason, that the consequences for me would be grim.
Yet now, over three years since I posted that memory and my reflections on it, I have at least one more question. Not for me, but for my parents. It’s simple.
Why did you send me into that shop in the first place?
This was the only shop near the campground we stayed at during those summers. More than likely, one of my parents had already been buying milk there and collecting the deposits. One or both had likely seen the filthy environment and experienced first-hand the unkempt, uncouth old man who ran the place.
I never thought about this back then. My job wasn’t to question my parents. It was to answer their questions—and accept the consequences.
Yet the question remains, and looms large today. Larger than dread about questions my parents would ask, and the possible verdict that I was, as usual, somehow at fault. Or that this wasn’t really all that important when I knew it was.
In going back, I don’t want to retell what’s already been told. I want to give a voice to this young girl that I am. She already seems to believe that no matter how she talks about what happened to her, she’ll be found guilty.
I believe she deserves to be heard, especially at this distance. Her courage astonishes me, even though she didn’t feel brave most of the time.
How to do this is the great discovery I have yet to make!
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 July 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
July 8, 2017
Not in this World to see his face —
~~~~~Antique Primer, School Reader ca. 1923, Bolenius Illustrations
Here’s a clever piece by Emily Dickinson. In it she comes to a well-considered outcome. One that happens to suit her immensely. Who says you can’t strike a bargain with Himself? My comments follow.
Not in this World to see his face –
Sounds long – until I read the place
Where this – is said to be
But just the Primer – to a life –
Unopened – rare – upon the Shelf –
Clasped yet – to Him – and me –And yet – My Primer suits me so
I would not choose – a Book to know
Than that – be sweeter wise –
Might some one else – so learned – be –
And leave me – just my A – B – C –
Himself – could have the Skies –c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
The setting, not described directly but alluded to, seems to be a Library. One that contains a rare Book, Unopened, on a Shelf. I imagine Emily standing there pondering her options.
It seems she longs to see his face, but doesn’t want to wait until she’s in another World. By the end of this short poem, she has adroitly moved to a solution that solves not one, but two problems! What could be better?
I think her logic goes something like this.
It seems I must wait to see his face in another life, another World. Yet haven’t I read somewhere that this life is a Primer to a life as yet unseen? Unseen because it hasn’t yet been opened.
In fact, this life is hidden over there on the rare Book shelf. See it? There’s a Clasp that keeps the Book tightly shut. Not just to me, but to Himself.
Hmm. You know, the more I think about it, the more I like my small Primer. After all, it introduces me to whatever comes next, and it’s filled with lovely things that point toward whatever comes next.
How about this for a solution? I keep my Primer, and leave the more mysterious Clasped Book for Himself. And maybe for the learned theologians! Surely they would love to figure out the other-World secrets locked within the Book. Then one day they can all see Himself in another World and find out whether they were correct!
As for me, I’m more than content to stay with my simple A-B-Cs. The birds and bees, butterflies and flowers, oceans and sunsets. I already see in them more than enough glimpses of Himself and of me.
Is Himself content with simple A-B-Cs? I don’t know, but if he’ll let me be content with my Primer right here on this earth, I’ll gladly leave the Skies and all other locked mysteries to Himself and the learned theologians.
Something like this. Maybe….
Hoping your Sabbath Primer is filled with mysteries that point to Someone greater than ourselves and to the persons we’re invited to become.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 July 2017
Images found at pinimg.com (Primer), and edenworkshops.com (Rare Book with Clasps)
July 7, 2017
writing life backwards…
The past
a muddled conglomeration
bits and pieces
scraps
in colors drab
dripping red
rags
Socks with holes
that hold no water
no deep thoughts
nothing worth saving
but my embodied soul
such as it was
small
scared
scarred
hypervigilant and
anguished
Dressed for church and company
Awkward, unseemly nice
Plain and forgettable
I will not forget
I write obsessively now
since the dam burst
Is this my confession?
Relieved capitulation to truth?
Sorrowful search for a little girl lost?
Yes Yes Yes and Yes –
All that and more
Written with a feather–
Backwards
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 July 2017
Image found at salon.com, previously featured in Crazy Happy Lady
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Quill
July 6, 2017
an untethered life
Annie J. Flint, Poet (1866-1932)
I like being in control. Or at least thinking I’m in control. Yet the older I get, the less control I have over my world, much less yours. I don’t relish feeling tethered by circumstances beyond my control.
Annie J. Flint, composer of the well-loved song below, lived a tethered life in her later years due to severe arthritis. Her ability to work or function as an independent adult was limited. She experienced what it means to ‘reach the end of our hoarded resources.’
Yet she still touches us with grace-filled lyrics such as these. Here’s one of her most-loved songs, unedited.
He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials he multiplies peace.When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.Words by Annie J. Flint (1866-1932)
Found at CyberHymnal.org
Today, six months into this year, I’m tempted to despair. I struggle with discouragement about national and international issues. I don’t know what I can do, or who I’m to be in the midst of growing chaos gone crazy. The options seem tightly restrictive.
Happily, these lyrics don’t lull me into spiritual make-believe land, as though I could escape all this. Instead, they invite me to keep an open mind and heart, stay engaged, and loosen my hold on that tether I think is binding me.
After all, Flint’s lyrics are about receiving, not about giving.
I’ve lived most of my adult life as a giver. Though it’s exhausting, I confess some addiction to it. Especially now that I’m not able to feed the giving habit as regularly as I might like.
Perhaps I’ve reached the end of my giving tether, and need to cut it loose. Annie Flint would likely agree. In fact, when her options became severaly limited, she picked up her pen and began writing her life in poetry. Not primarily for us, but for herself.
How selfish? No, how wise. I can’t think of a better way to receive gifts than to unwrap, admire, and use them.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 6 July 2017
Image found at CyberHymnal.org
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Tether
July 5, 2017
born yet again
born yet again
loving and leaving
peeling growing itchy
skin too tight
between lurches
a hatched pattern
unfolds
creases rise edgy
birth canal angular
made to order
a fearsome adventure
unrehearsed
a snail’s pace
catapults me
inch by sub-inch
toward light
***
And that, my friends, it what this plucky woman felt when I woke this morning. Keenly aware of my age and of the many times I’ve said goodbye to ‘me’ and hello to the new, exciting (?) unknown ‘me.’
Today nothing is set in concrete except this: I am God’s beloved daughter-child. Along for the ride, and learning to relax my way into it.
Happy Wednesday!
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 July 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
Daily Prompt: Pluck
July 4, 2017
Dear Clouds,
Forgive me for interrupting you
On this sunny, slightly cloudy holiday
When you’re extra busy above the scenes.
I don’t have a speech,
Just a breezy note
In passing:
Thank you!
You show up day and night
Working in earth’s atmosphere
A massive, moving panorama.
Highlighting, lowlighting, hovering,
Dancing, rippling, undulating
Before and around the sun and the moon
Darkening, thickening, showing your muscle,
Announcing impending flashes of lightning
and thunderous torrents of rain.
I wonder, do you feel affirmed and needed?
Or do you dream of sailing off into the sunset
And never returning?
Please know you’re loved and respected the world over
And that every living thing on this planet
Counts on you to show up and do your thing.
Also, if you’re wondering,
Some of us down below are doing what we can
To make sure you live long and prosper.
From a Fan
~~~
All creatures of our God and King,
Lift up your voice and with us sing,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou burning sun with golden beam,
Thou silver moon with softer gleam!
Refrain:
O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou rushing wind that art so strong,
Ye clouds that sail in heav’n along,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou rising moon, in praise rejoice,
Ye lights of evening, find a voice!….
St. Francis of Assisi, ca. 1225
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 July 2017
Photo found at carlwozniak.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Sail
July 3, 2017
one split second
One split second frozen in time captures my eyes.
***
This is a shout-out of gratitude to my dear husband who captures so many stunning photos. No matter where we are. No matter how much time it takes. No hurry. No worry. I sit in the shade, relaxing, or walk around and then come back, knowing his attention to detail will be rewarded.
Not every photo is picture perfect. But then there are the others, waiting to be discovered. This is one of the standouts.
D took this last week on our visit to Longwood Gardens. For me, the payoff comes in photos like this. They evoke wonder, and invite me to ponder life from a different angle.
They also remind me of our many trips together through life. Memories captured and resurrected each time I return for a look-see. Or post them right here for you.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 July 2017
Photo taken by DAFraser, 27 June 2017
Longwood Gardens Lily Pond, Kennet Square, Pennsylvania
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Dash
July 1, 2017
Framing Freedom
Here’s an Independence Day (July 4) post from two years ago. My small contribution to what it means and doesn’t mean to be a ‘true patriot’ in this country. Today’s inflated rhetoric about freedom pushes the envelope when it comes to the meaning of freedom, much less free speech. What does it mean and not mean to live in freedom?
I’m writing this on July 4, Independence Day in the USA. A day that’s all about freedom. That intangible, inalienable ‘right’ highly valued in our national rhetoric.
When I was teaching theology I couldn’t help noticing how many seminarians defined Christian freedom as free will. The kind that makes choices—yes or no. As some said with fervor, ‘You can take away my house, and even my life, but don’t you dare try to take away my free will!’
I understand what they want to protect—their own freedom of choice, as a kind of inalienable right. Something God gave them that needs to be protected at all costs. The freedom to choose right or wrong, this church or that church, to believe and live this way or that way.
The ability for human beings to makes choices of any kind comes from our Creator. Yet I wonder. Do we understand the meaning of Christian freedom?
Even…
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June 30, 2017
It began innocently enough
It began innocently enough
Here a bit, there a bit
Never enough to cause
a problem mind you
After all, small snacks
helped her get through
the day and sometimes
the night
But insatiable hunger
screamed for more
as though there might not
be a tomorrow
And her more became less –
Insubstantial pap dished up
flavored just the way
she liked it
They say terminal glut
caused her early demise
That, and her uncontrollable
urge to gorge on the news
of her choice
I don’t hate news reports. I read and listen to them regularly. Yet I can’t help noticing my daily habits, and the kinds of headlines I seem unable to resist.
I could justify any or all of it. Yet what have I gained? And how does any of this add value to my health and well-being? Or to accomplishing my primary goals each day? Not productivity goals, but activities that bring me joy–writing, listening to music, reading, and walking outside.
Just wondering….
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 June 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Snack
Telling the Truth 