
The Shroud of Time



The tree wears a brace.
Summer is only half southern.
Among the roses
atoms splitting.
I reach through torn air.
Past it –
a gummy planet.
My life will live on
without me.
Hair and schedules
are only shells.
Nothing stands well
against the climate
of persnickety evil.
The tree’s chi sinks into
its roots.
The roses,
meanwhile,
fire their hopeful signals
at random.

Candles in a church in Rome. Our prayers light the darkest recesses.
The ghost tries my
new furniture,
finds it comfortable,
sits inside me when I
refuse to get up and
make way.
I’ve not been inhabited
by myself in many days,
so this is refreshing.
But I itch.
He doesn’t quite fit.
I have been conforming to the world rather than the Word.
I obsess over society specific standards of beauty rather than the beauty of my soul. I have cares more about pleasing the world than pleasing my husband. I have focused on my looks (weight, fashion etc) more than on God.
I believe in charity, in Christ’s call to give to the poor. But lately I have not given enough. I am well past due for a donation to one of my favorite organizations – St Jude’s.
I have not been a good steward of the time that God has granted me. I fritter away my time on social media.
This past weekend I fast it again from social media like I used to, and I think it was good for me. Social media is still good for many things, and as a housewife it can be an important way for me to connect to others around me. But too much time spent on social media is a waste. It could be put to better use educating my child, cleaning my house, reading a good book, or creating poetry. There’s so much more I could do than scroll Facebook or Instagram.
I need to be open and comfortable with how I look. I need to fully adjust dressing modestly because it’s what makes God happy and what makes my husband happy. And I think it reminds me to die to the flesh a little bit. I need to give more, whether it is of my time or money. With mental issues being the way they are it can be difficult to donate time just because it’s hard to make a long-term commitment. But I need to find some way to give of myself to my community.
The last of the rain
hides under the chipped bench.
In a burrow ten feet away,
Summer and her bulimic brood.
Children stare at their faces in puddles,
faces framed by the
rainbow slick of motor oil
in the water.
What hallucinogenic heat
pushes a woman to the docks,
makes her surrender in
the family boat named
SS Hypatia?

Today we tried a Lutheran Church of the Missouri Synod. The Methodist church has been splintered by the LGBT issue. Although the church ruled not to allow the ordination of active gays and lesbians, it was the African and Asian churches who carried that vote. Most of the American and other Western churches opposed the decision. Our conference is in open rebellion against the ruling at the General Conference, and in our church newsletter there was a screed about discrimination essentially being further codified and made harsher.
The LGBT issue is a difficult one for me as a bi Christian, but fundamentally I believe that those living in homosexual relationships should not be ordained. They should be a part of the church and allowed to serve in the church. But ordination is a whole other matter. I do not think I should be ordained for a variety of reasons, and I believe that active homosexuals should not be eligible for ordination either. In the same way I would not want a divorced or adulterous person to be ordained, nor do I want the church to ordain those mired in homosexual sin unless they have chosen to be pure. Those who are ordained have to go above and beyond to make sure they are above reproach. They are to be held to a higher standard than others in the church.
Sometimes I feel like the church does not offer enough shelter and grace to LGBT people. I am happily married to a man, yet if the subject of sexuality comes up and I tell other Christians I am bi, I am sometimes the immediate recipient of the cold shoulder – at best. I’ve also been told that there are demons on me etc. I can only imagine what someone just like me who has chosen another woman instead of a man faces. There has been an uneven judgment in which the church weighs homosexuality more heavily than other kinds of sin and judges homosexuals to be the worst of sinners. This has got to stop. Your homosexual neighbor is no worse than your shoplifting teenage daughter, your lying brother, your drunken cousin. Yet to be ordained, although it is impossible to be sinless as a mere mortal, you should not be a shoplifter (or any other kind of thief), a liar, or a drunk. It is because the ordained must be a cut above. No one will listen to what you preach if you do not practice it. An ordained minister should, more than any of us, be the Word of God in action.
There are some who make the argument that the Bible does not teach against Homosexuality, but as of yet I have not seen a convincing argument for that.
We are also interested in the Lutheran church because they do not ordain women. That is one of our beliefs, particularly mine.
We want to attend the super traditional service with the classical liturgy next week. This week we attended a mixed service. It was still lovely. I took communion, which I have not been able to do in awhile. It was real wine. I was not thrilled about that, but of course the Lutherans are not the only ones to use real wine. I will be asking if juice is an option if we end up joining this church.
Firm meadows
call me out.
Work is not my friend,
always one foot
ahead of my disease eaten ankle.
Tuesday will dissolve.
