The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.
Some days you get to elevenses only to realize the most productive bit you’ve managed all day is the removal of a stray hyphen from and adverb ending in -ly followed by an adjective as per the Chicago manual of style.
That is a good time to take yourself for a walk to sit by a playa lake and watch some geese.
Who baked the bread That Jesus blessed And broke, and shared That Passover supper, when he said, “This is my body Broken for you”? Who made the wine, When he passed the cup, Saying, “This is my blood, The blood of the covenant, Shed for you and for many. The fruit of the vine I shall not taste again Until I taste it new In the Kingdom of God”? Who made the wine?
Was it a woman who tended the vine, Pressed the grapes, and made the wine; Who planted the field, threshed the wheat, And baked the bread for others to eat?
And afterwards, did a woman come To clear the cup; to mop, Perhaps, a single careless drop Of wine, of God’s blood shed; To gather every scattered crumb Of broken body, broken bread?
Did a woman, coming to clean the room, Find grace in the fragments left behind, As women, later, would come to find An angel and an empty tomb?
The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood-
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.
taking my baking inspiration from the bit in pippi longstoking where she rolls out ten million pepparkakor on the kitchen floor because she ran out of room on the cabinets was probably a terrible idea.
so maybe i’m making a grooms cake. with a UT tower…
“All my favorite people are broken Believe me, my heart should know Awful believers, skeptical dreamers, step forward You can stay right here, you don’t have to go”
And grace sounds like Over the Rhine at the close of a fractious weekend.
