Mamajojo's Muse

"Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen: To loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter- when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say; here am I.
If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.
Isaiah 58: 6-11


Wednesday, March 30, 2022

 Sleet and grey skies here today. BUT tomorrow promises 70 and a day of Irish charm: rainy! 

I will take it.

This morning I read an article about how nasty everyone is being now, on planes and in stores and restaurants. A teacher friend said she had never wished for the end of the year more than now.  The same anger and violence blared from the news, endlessly repeating clips of Will Smith slapping Chris Rock, after Rock told a cruel and stupid joke. 

Sigh. 

I drove to pick up Darrell's prescriptions and some snacks for him, and he asked me to stop at The Farmer and the Chickpea. A new, take-out or eat-in, locavore restaurant, he especially loves their menu. The kitchen is right there at the entrance, where you pick your meal from today's specials, displayed in a big glass case. We take-out almost always, but the decor is industrial artsy and if it is not crowded we have eaten in a quiet corner away from the other germ and virus carriers. 
Last time, I didn't buy a peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie from the big tray on top of the glass display case.
I REALLY wanted to.
 Darrell can't eat them and I didn't want to make him sad. THIS time he was too busy and too sore with arthritis to come with me, so I was ready to strike. I can eat it in the car and he won't be jealous or have a sugar spike because of me. 
But alas. She didn't have any peanut butter. I had to laugh-I am supposed to be on a diet too! 
I told her I'd DEFINITELY get one next time. She remembered me, because on the last trip to her restaurant, he was with me, and she gave me a broken piece of cookie to taste, because I admired them, but  I told her he can't eat cookies, so I (rather nobly) won't either. 
I ordered some food to be heated up that I planned to whisk home to D, who was waiting impatiently. There were several customers before me and the owner seemed to be very busy, with only one of her somewhat slow-moving high schoolers working with her. 
I read the news on my phone and did the Wordle of the day and she was ready. An extra box sat on top of our lunch containers. "I had a tiny bit of peanut butter, so I made you a surprise," she said with a grin. "If you are going to eat it in the car, you will need a spoon!"
She had made ONE big, gushy, meltingly hot PB and chocolate chip cookie for me as a gift. 
Can you believe that? I am so glad we have her new place in our formerly fast-food town. 

But there's more...
Trying to pull out on the street , the traffic seemed endless. Then a truck driver stopped, held up everyone behind him, and signaled me to pull out in front of him. 
At first, I thought I was in some alternate reality. 
Then a small bit of light welled up inside me and said, there is HOPE. 
Maybe not a lot, but a start.

Hope

Old spirit, in and beyond me,
keep and extend me. Amid strangers
friends, great trees and big seas breaking,
let love move me. Let me hear the whole music,
see clear, reach deep. Open me to find due words,
that I may shape them to ploughshares of my own making.
After such luck, however late, give me to give to
the oldest dance… Then to good sleep,
and - if it happens - glad waking.

Philip Booth

That is from my collection of marvelous poetry I used in teaching. I so miss surprising kids into emotional connection to someone else's thoughts through poetry. 

Here is another:

Snow 
by Anne Sexton 


Snow,
blessed snow,
comes out of the sky
like bleached flies.
The ground is no longer naked.
The ground has on its clothes.
The trees poke out of sheets
and each branch wears the sock of God.

There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
I bite it.
Someone once said:
Don’t bite till you know
if it’s bread or stone.
What I bite is all bread,
rising, yeasty as a cloud.

There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
Today God gives milk
and I have the pail.

--

Watch out for hope.

Hold out your pail.

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