The way ahead runs like a ribbon
through autumn hills
draped in early morning mist.
Foreground reality sturdy
and reassuring frames
this snapshot of life–
an adventure into unknown territory.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 August 2017
Photo taken by DAFraser, Autumn 2015
Driving through Cairngorms National Park, Scotland
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Foggy
hanging on for dear life
gnarled roots exposed
soil sifts away with
each new flash flood
no rock bottom in sight
turbulence guaranteed
in more than the air
reeking with harbingers
of hard times ahead
soil ill-prepared
for these upheavals
brittle dry sinews of our
vulnerability on display
slow motion relentless
yesterday disappearing
before our eyes can adjust
in this foreboding present
Every day my eyes are pulled to headlines and news articles that sometimes offer more than they can deliver. Instead, they leave me without comfort or enlightenment. Sometimes they destroy any iota of clarity I thought I’d achieved. It isn’t laughable; it’s tragic. Not because of the news industry, but because of what passes these days as news.
So here’s the news I’m counting on these days–good for me, good for you and good for the animals and mother earth!
Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens,
Your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
Your justice like the great deep.
You, Lord, preserve both people and animals.
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house;
You give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
In your light we see light.
Psalm 36: 5-9 (New International Version)
Psalm 36 was written during politically troubled times filled with those who flattered themselves “too much to detect or hate their sin.” So-called leaders were failing to “act wisely or do good” and did not reject what was wrong.
The only antidote to evil and falsehood is truth. Speaking it, yes. Even more potent, living it. Daring to live each day in the light of our Maker—the only light in which we see light, whether we live and whether we die. The unseen source and goal of our dear lives.
Praying this day will bring moments of deep calm and clarity.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 July 2017
Photo credit: DAFraser, October 2012, Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Shallow
Here’s an Emily Dickinson poem that appeals to the child in each of us. I also find it timely, all things considered. My response follows her poem.
Will there really be a “Morning”?
Is there such a thing as “Day”?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Man from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called “Morning” lies!c. 1859
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
Dear Emily,
I wonder what was on your mind when you wrote this. Maybe the War between the States? Family members who fought in it? Or how about the devastation left behind when so many cities and fertile fields were laid waste via fire?
Some people don’t think things here are that bad now; others don’t agree. I’d say we at least have something like it.
Then again, maybe you were thinking of less visible things. Perhaps a personal loss you couldn’t show the world. Or the piled up anguish of watching one family member after another decline in health and leave this world. Or your keen awareness that this world doesn’t always value what you value, or see things the way you do.
I think we have all of that right now, and more just keeps coming. I also think we’re getting tired of it.
Maybe you were lonely when you wrote this. So lonely that you would have been happy to leave this life behind. You might have been lonely for the birds and insects, trees and shrubs, water lilies and butterflies, sunrises and sunsets. All creatures great and small. Your outdoor cathedral and congregation where you felt safe, understood and appreciated. Without having to explain yourself over and over.
In your poem you call yourself a little Pilgrim. I like that. It’s a very kind and tender way to talk about yourself. Almost, but not quite putting yourself down because you don’t happen to be a scholar, sailor or wise man from the skies. I think you’re already a wise woman, a sailor of sometimes treacherous social seas, and a deep scholar of human life.
Now that you’re There, I wonder whether, as a Wise Woman from the skies, you might tell me where the place called “Morning” lies. Could you? Would you? It seems we have many lost souls here who are looking for that place. If not here, then where? Can you help us find it? Or at least send us a little poem about it?
Your pen pal, Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 July 2017
Photo found at collegewritingpoetry.wordpress.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Hidden
I’m just back from seeing my kidney doctor to go over recent lab tests. Two things in particular have me ecstatic!
Speaking of visiting, tomorrow D and I are going next door for tea with our neighbors. He cooked the fabulous Quinoa and Garbanzo Bean dish (Indian style) for me, and she’s a medical doctor. Yesterday I saw Rita while we were out walking. I’m due a cup of tea with her, as well.
That’s it for now. Just felt like I would pop wide open if I didn’t share my good news!
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 July 2018
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Tea
Smell of fear
Binds her tongue
Without
And within
Residue
Of storms
Long past
Hovering
Just beyond
Eyesight
Deep within
Her psyche
Spawning fear
Of her powerful
Voice locked
In neutral
Going nowhere
I always die a little when I speak in public. It doesn’t matter how confident or calm I sound on the outside. I shake on the inside, sometimes trembling physically when I’m finished. If fear were a fragrance, I would reek of it.
I’ve always chalked this up to being an introvert with thin skin. Afraid of what people will think of me and my ideas. Especially when I’m speaking in a religious setting.
Little wonder. My thinking and writing about God, the world and Christian faith aren’t always considered acceptable, much less mainstream by either more conservative or more liberal listeners.
Nonetheless, I think this fear runs deeper.
This weekend I had a small dialogue with myself about my voice. Especially my writing voice. I love it. Often, looking back at old posts, I’m moved to tears.
Nonetheless, I’ve been dragging my feet on the idea I floated well over a month ago. Dragging my feet while pretending to move ahead. Hoping to generate enough energy to begin working on an e-book of selected postings.
This past weekend, I hit pay dirt. Here’s what I wrote in my journal on Friday and Saturday evenings, lightly edited for clarity.
Friday evening, after lots of agonized words about getting nowhere.
Right now this is an undocumented project. Notes, but no measurable, incremental steps recorded….I say I don’t have to do this, yet I want to do it! What’s holding me back? I want to know. I feel a little stuck and frightened. Of what? I don’t know. Am I afraid of my own voice?
Then Saturday evening:
Yes! I’m stuck and I’m frightened of my own voice…Today I read through about 15 of my most liked poems and chose one to reblog—the Amy post about being weary of my life—her lament that’s so like mine. “You are about my bed.” Where I’m lying—stuck and frightened of my own voice.
I accept this truth and want to welcome it as a stranger…rather than denying its existence, and thus denying the dormant power of my voice….Was this one reason my father tried to beat my voice out of me??? Did he see something I couldn’t see? Something that frightened or threatened him and his voice? “You are about my bed.”
And Sunday evening:
Yes! I have a powerful voice, and have had all my life.
I’m sure I’ll learn more along the way. But this is where I find myself today, Monday.
Thanks for listening and reading!
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 July 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompts: Fragrance; Dormant
In the blink of an eye
Memories take me back
Surrounded by music
I want to stay here forever
Feeling the harmonies
The ebb and flow of
Joyful voices surrounding me
Filled with hope for tomorrow
Lost in a magic sliver of time
When all was right with the world
We were ambassadors
On a mission
Ready to die if needs be
My heart aches for what we lost
On our way from there to here
So many hidden wounds and
Untold secrets and yet
One concert after another
We entered gladly
Into His gates with thanksgiving
And into His courts with praise
Eager and ready for whatever
Tomorrow might bring
This photo was taken in 1962-63. It’s the Ambassador Choir—the concert choir of Columbia Bible College in Columbia, South Carolina (now Columbia International University).
It was D’s senior year, my junior year. He was president of the choir; I served as accompanist to the choir. Mainly piano, and a little organ. D is on the third row from the top, 2nd from the left. I’m on the same row, 3rd from the right (with glasses).
We’re in the college auditorium, in front of the college motto and a huge globe of the world. Many students studied at CBC/CIU because they wanted to be missionaries. Among them were bi-lingual ‘missionary kids’ who came from all over the world.
Bill Supplee, our beloved choir and music director, was a stickler for getting things right. In the photo we’re grouped according to gender and height. However, each concert required a new lineup created by Mr. Supplee. We stood in groups of eight (eight part harmony for many songs), never next to anyone singing our part.
Getting it right meant on pitch, from memory, with no sliding notes or coming in early or hanging on late. Precision mattered. Articulation was paramount. Drawing attention to oneself by swaying or making head motions was absolutely forbidden.
This wasn’t about us, it was about the Gospel. Always presented in a carefully crafted sequence of music. The choir processed from center and side aisles onto the risers. Unison at first, breaking into eight-part harmony at the end. All to invite the congregation into the Lord’s gates with thanksgiving.
Each concert ended with a brief challenge to consider what God might want you to do in response, followed by a glorious recessional. The message was clear, and always well received.
Not clear, however, was how many of us carried hidden, unresolved pain from our childhoods as we processed down the aisles. Today I’m aware of stories I didn’t know then, and have shared my own. Many of our friends are already gone.
Still, I’m no cynic. I value the privilege of having been part of this spirited endeavor. It gave me the privilege of being regularly surrounded and held by music that kept my soul and my spirit alive. And, along the way, gave me the gift of knowing and falling in love with D.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 22 July 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Gate
Can’t get it out of my mind. Thank you WordPress for this delectable word of the day: Lollipop!
No, I wasn’t allowed to listen to it at home, or dance and romance to it, but I loved it. It was alive, incredibly fun to sing and cheeky in days when cheeky wasn’t on The Good Girl’s List of Acceptable Behaviors.
Here it is, in its original glory, performed by the Chordettes. One of their glorious hits from the 1940s and 50s, recorded and filmed in the good old days. Their biggest hit was Mr. Sandman.
Don’t blame me if you can’t get it out of your mind….
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 July 2017
Tootsie Roll Lollipop image found at sweetcitycandy.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Lollipop
rising and falling
earth-born cicada concert
shrieks through summer air
***
Do you live on the East Coast of the USA? This year’s crop of cicadas is huge. Here’s a great article that will tell you how many cicadas per square mile (sit down!), plus other fascinating cicada facts.
Or maybe you’d just like to hear one of these little buggers in solo concert (solo? a rarity in my experience). Check out this video:
All I wanted was a quiet morning walk. Not only were the cicadas ramping up into full morning concert, the tree experts were boring and grinding the remains of a large expired shade tree deeply rooted in soil next to the grade school. No complaints, though, since I already knew the prompt for the day, and enjoyed the walk.
Hoping your day brings good surprises along with whatever else comes along.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 July 2017
Image found at livescience.com; video found on YouTube
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Soil
Edible. Such a lovely word. Especially for hungry people, and especially if it’s offered as a banquet served on silver platters, with drum rolls and fine patriotic music in the background.
So what’s for dinner? Why are you so secretive about what’s on the menu? You say it’s going to be Beautiful, even Great! Much better for my health than the food I’ve been eating all these years.
Am I to believe you and your not-so-carefully scripted words, or my own well-honed gut instincts?
Do you have a complete list of ingredients? A nutritional profile for the long-term edibility of this fine feast you’re serving up? My gut won’t tolerate just anything, you know.
Poison in any form is inedible. Especially when cooked up in a private club-like kitchen with chefs and assistants who look strangely like each other, smile a lot, and keep saying what a Beautiful Thing this feast is going to be. Just what I need to Make My Health Great Again!
Really? Why is my stomach already churning? And what’s that stench in the air? Don’t you smell it? I haven’t even taken the first bite, and I’m already looking for the closest bathroom!
Are you going to force-feed me? Did your parents force-feed you? Do you force-feed your children? Your grandchildren? Your nephews and your nieces? Why aren’t there any exit signs in this room?
Is it really too much to hold out for edible food? As I see it, a dry crust of bread shared with peace of mind would be better than this banquet of trouble.
With thanks to Proverbs 17:1 (Good News Translation)
Better to eat a dry crust of bread with peace of mind
than have a banquet in a house full of trouble.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 July 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Edible
Telling the Truth 