And the Rosary Sings

 For as long as I can remember, I've been writing poetry and especially Haikus.  I don't follow strict rules of subject matter but I do try to follow the 5-7-5 pattern.  Sometimes, as in the fourth stanza here, it doesn't work.  The mood I'm reaching for needs more.  Then I simply, without apology, take poetic liberty.

 

Chilly. Windy. Fresh.

The river invited me and

The Rosary sings

 

My lips murmured 

My heart gathered strength and

The Rosary sings

 

Quietly sitting

All my efforts finished

The Rosary sings

 

Sunlight pours on sand

Clouds spread, inky light darkens

But . . .

The Rosary continues to sing

Originally published in catholic365.com

Poem of Protest, #10 - O Jerusalem: Grief and Lamentation

Years ago I wrote several poems of protest as I raged against society and corrupt politics.  In the years since then, I have drawn closer to my Faith, traveled elsewhere in the country to experience a domestic mission, became a grandmother four times over, uprooted myself late in life, and watched the world change for the worse.  

My life now centers on hope, prayer, and peacemaking.  I'm not very good at it.  Or perhaps it's not that I fail, but that others fail to hear.  In this time of tearing conflict, when black is white and white is black, I look back on those poems of protest and O, Jerusalem especially called to me.  At the end of 2023 A.D., the suffering in Jerusalem and of the Jews has not changed.  In over 4,000 years, hearts have not softened, minds have not matured, and love and wisdom has not taken their rightful place side by side in the hearts of mankind.

O, JERUSALEM

Temple Mount
Four thousand year veneration
 Judaism, Christianity, Islam
Eleven entrance gates guarded by guns
Ten for Muslims, one for Others
O, Jerusalem

God manifested
Birthplace of Talmud
Birthplace of Adam
Neighbor to the binding place of Isaac
Temple Mount, Stronghold of Zion
O, Jerusalem

Temple Mount
Home of Jewish Temples
Center for  national life
Government, law, religion, economy
O, Jerusalem

First built by Solomon
Destroyed by Babylonians
Second built by Zerubbabel
Destroyed by the Romans
O, Jerusalem

The third still to be built
Holy of Holies
Lost in a sea of stone
O, Jerusalem

Temple Mount
Central importance
from age to age
Usurped by Holy Sepulcher
O, Jerusalem.

Christians left, nature destroyed.
third temple effort
Suffering neglect out of respect
O, Jerusalem

Temple Mount
Seventh-century rubble heap
Muslim conquest
Recovery, Renew, Reclaim
O,  Jerusalem

Dome of the Rock
Al Alsqa Mosque
Occupier of Holy of Holies
O, Jerusalem

Grief and lamentations
Hatred your tool of contempt and power
International body, you had NO right
O, Jerusalem

O, 

Turning A Page

It's mid-November and I've turned 76 years old.  I remember when my mom turned 75 and I had a t-shirt painted for her that said "This is what 75 looks like".  I loved that t-shirt.  She hated it and never, ever wore it.  Was I disappointed? Yes.  Do I wish I had that t-shirt? YES.  I'm proud of my age and proud that I have arrived at 76.  Maybe that's because I've unconsciously struggled for many years to accept that I'm a lovable person but after all these years, but especially the past 7 years, life has become very sweet.

I don't think my mom ever had that turning point in her life.  If she did, she never spoke of it.  She never shared it in even an indirect way.  There was a loneliness about her that I picked up from her and applied to myself.  But, without going into a lot of soul sharing, suffice it to say that finally, at the age of 70, I started the journey that got me where I am today.  

The written word has always been important to me.  Getting lost in reading a good book was my hiding place.  I never went anywhere without having a book with me.  My purse always had to be large enough to hold the basics and a paperback book.  With the advent of cell phones, I dove into reading online through the Hoopla and Libby apps via my library card.  Reading cranked up several notches.  The titles I purchased became more discerning, and my own personal writing became more focused.

Don, my pirate, as I lovingly call him, thanked me for this switch to eBooks for several reasons.  (1.)  I spent less on books; (2.) My Amazon wish list became shorter  but more refined. (3.)  Gift giving was made simple and he knew he would always get it right. And (4.) After I and our daughter BOTH urged him to make his own Amazon Wish List, I think he  finally started listening.  At least I hope he did.

Anyway, back to the point.  When we left California in 2017, I was still blogging but once I arrived at our new home, everything shifted.  My writing helped me focus on the adjustments I had to make to a new and very different life.  Leaving everything that I knew and a small circle of friends for a world where I knew absolutely no one led me to my own personal understanding of the phrase "Stranger In A Strange Land" (Exodus 2:22)  Engaging myself in the local Roman Catholic parish opened the doors to friendship and having been born and raised in California, the first question I got from everyone was "Why in the world did you move here?"  As I got to know this new world and they got to know me (I felt like a new and fun toy at times) I found myself falling in love with the kindness and amiability of the people I was meeting.  My lack of history ran smack into their decades of history with each other and with patience and forebearance I was shown how to connect the dots that is life in a small town.

Soon I had so many stories written, little vignettes of life here as opposed to life back home, I decided to share them in our local weekly newspaper.  For 18 months I submitted weekly columns and the readers lover them.  Stranger would stop me on the street and tell me how they were seeing this little town through a whole new set of eyes and were redeveloping an appreciation for their home.  Eventually, the series concluded but it now lives on in it's own book entitled "A California Girl Meets the Bootheel".  That moment of publication was the moment that I started to sharpen my focus and over time and a few workshops, I found what I liked, a style I felt comfortable with.  

In time, I started to create small writings that centered on prayer, meditations, devotionals, observation on life around me, faith and family.  A website, Catholic 365 came knocking.  Someone found one of my old blogs from 13-14 years ago, liked what they saw, and sent me an invitation to join their community of writers.  After three weeks of thinking about it, I decided to give it a try and you can now find me writing at Catholic 365. I will still be writing here but now it is becoming a place to try out new ideas that I can put out for exploration and be refined for and contributed to my new community of writers.

It's been a long time . . .

 . . . since I've visited this blog.  More than six months have passed.  Sometimes there's just nothing to say or perhaps it is expressed in another way.  But today I'm posting something.  It originally came out as a letter to the editor in my local small town newspaper, but here it arrives as recordkeeping.  Some things need to not get lost.

******************************************************************

Letter to the Editor of the Pemiscot Press

Rivergirl Reflections

from Annie Jeffries

Anyone who has lived to my age completely and entirely knows the ins and outs of kids and adults fundraising.  We all remember back to mid-century and girls selling Girl Scout cookies.  Then schools, in general, got involved with fundraising to augment shrinking education dollars.  And, we all know the teachers who spend their own money to create a stimulating learning environment for their students.  Whether it’s scouting, business and social organizations, schools, churches, or whatever, we all have experienced the “Would you be interested in buying . . . “ question.  We did it.  Our children did it.  Our grandchildren and in some case, great-grandchildren are doing it.  And we are supporting and helping them in their fundraising endeavors.

 

Fundraising, from the general public, has become woven into the fabric of our day to day lives.  Friends, family, booths at local events, and places where people gather are all in the sights of fundraising and there is nothing wrong with that.  As long as the person doing the approaching is polite, I don’t have a problem with it.  However, the person selling a raffle ticket, for example, has a reasonable expectation of a courteous response.  A simple “No, thank you”, is always the right response if you are not going to say yes. 

That being said, a couple of recent incidents have come to my attention that were so egregious that I just could not keep my mouth shut.  Some place along the line of our ever evolving social media world and 24 hour newscycling, we have lost our manners. Using the word “manners” may sound old fashion but, say what you will, that is exactly what it is.  How we address people – is it polite or impolite?  Too many thoughtlessly people say hurtful words and then let them fall where they may.

Two friends recently, on three separate occasions were reduced to tears when a simple “No, thank you”, would have sufficed.  It could have just as easily been me as the target since we all happen to be involved in the same fundraising activity.  It wasn’t but since I’m not one to keep my mouth shut anymore, I’ve decide to call out bad behavior.

It is NOT OKAY to threaten, aggressively question, spout idiotic opinions that have nothing to do with the reality of a particular matter, or intimidate someone.

It is NOT OKAY to brush off anything she has to say back and reduce her to tears. 

It is NOT OKAY for people around you to remain silent and let you get away with bad behavior.  “Oh, that’s just so and so being so and so” Does. Not. Cut. It.  You are as shameful as he was because you remained silent.

It is never okay to be disrespectful, discourteous, impolite, inconsiderate, abrupt, deliberately thoughtless, or ungracious.  Being nasty is inexcusable and just makes you plain rude.  In the future, just say “No, thank you”.

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Haiku My Heart

 Be Careful What You Ask For

We are borrowers

Nothing uniquely our own

Machines triumphant

Haiku My Heart

 

Laboring tugboat

Cargo weighing down the barge

Safe delivery

Musings on a Wednesday Afternoon

The urge to write isn't strong these days.  But today I found myself musing on this past week and it deserves to be put into words. So, . . .

After Christmas with a houseful and then some, life was quiet for a short time.  Then I visited the kiddos in Tennessee and it was non-stop action as only a household can be when the littles are 8 and younger.  

Between two squabbling boys and another one in the mighty throes of the Terrible Twos - well, just think about that for a moment.  Between home schooling, an endless parade of dishes in and out of the dishwasher, and laundry that Just. Won't. Stop., I don't know how my daughter does it.  But, she does.  I learned, jumping into the deep end, that visiting the grands isn't for wimps.  But it really had some great moments.  

I had a chance to see my old social media friend, pre- Facebook, no less, Beth.  We all met

 

at Katie's ice cream while the kids ran free in the play area and the "grown ups" hung out for a couple of hours catching up.  Good times.

I experienced home schooling.

 

...and I'm so proud of how smart and engaged the kids are.

I love the beauty of Tennessee.  I've been fortunate to have traveled a lot in my life so I've experienced much beauty in many states and countries.  The rivers of the South are especially fine to me.  

I took this picture on the fly as we were crossing the Cumberland River.

Saturday I went to a six year old's birthday party in Nashville.  By Sunday afternoon I was feeling ill.  By 1:34 a.m. I visited the bathroom for the first of 4 visits loosing it all from stem to stern.  Sorry for the TMI but we've all been there.  Four days later, I'm tired, not eating, but home in my own bed.  Kris has been dealing with two sick ones, the youngest and the oldest.  That party was the gift that kept on giving.

Sunday, while the bug was still in stealth mode, incubating quietly for it's first seige, we went to Mass at Assumption Church in Nashville.  It has been many years since I have attended a Traditional Latin Mass (TLM).  It was a good experience and the church was packed, many of the attendees young and BIG families.  It was so gratifying to see this.  I look forward to attending Assumption again.   Afterward, I took a walk around the neighborhood and found a charming white cottage, a Little Free Library, and a sculpture garden.  Alas, it was the last of the good times.  😒

So, now I am at home again after a week away.  Energy is low but the brain is in active musing mode.  I started thinking about the things I remember the most about family members who are now departed.  My father and his homemade peanut brittle.  My mother and her persimmon cookies and pumpkin squares.  My paternal grandfather and his fried donuts and flapjacks.  My paternal grandmother and her homemade bread,  I remember the sound of their old grandmother clock as it ticked away the time.  Happily, I have that clock now.  I have no memories of my mother's parents; they died long before I was born.  But I have some treasures from that time and the memory of a few other treasures that, sadly, were stolen from my home many years ago.  

But as I get older, I find myself becoming less and less attached to material things and I'm finally becoming comfortable with that state of mind. What I still have, and am so grateful for, is a wonderful family.  Two children and their spouses (Q and Kris, you chose well), 4 grandchildren, a good husband, and a brother.  I love them all so much and every thought of them is a thank you to God.