Today is Trinity Sunday—Creator/Christ/HolySpirit all becoming one at once.
Can you see how becoming this intricate, intimate, impossible, confused, and tangled doctrine is? It is quite unbecoming, in fact. It simply does not fit into any of our compartments of theological understanding. Nor does it lend itself to appropriation into the safe comfort zone of being spiritual but not religious. Not much soul-breeching Mystery does, does it? After all, how many voices, dark and bright, silent or aloud, thrum about in your own mind, blow out from your own mouth, and pulse away in your own heart all at once?
Becoming
What greater joy can there be
than to be becoming?
My mother always used to say,
“Oh darling, that dress becomes you.”
The coat I bought you is so becoming.”
And my father would say,
“How much was it?”
But what’s more becoming than
to become yourself,
And so to know that God becomes you?
Now look about and say to the tree, the tiny bud,
the bunny, your stuffy, your neighbor:
God is so becoming to you.
by the Rev.Lyn G. Brakeman
Healer
The healer seeks the venues of the harmed,
The stressed, the victims of the brunt
Of inhumanity unchecked,
Of those who have been plunged into
A porridge of unmitigated pain.
The hands of unobstructed love,
With time and patient, gentle skill,
Bestow a sense of healing peace,
And send the reassurance that
Goodness lives and can be found
In the embrace of a true Friend.
by Peter L. Dal Negro
Tell Me My Tears
Tell my my tears,
I asked the gull.
Ratcheting her head
One moist eye beaded mine
She waddled—away.
Tell me my tears,
I asked the sun.
Ducking under some clouds,
He winked, a bold flirt
Then dried them—all.
Tell me my tears,
I asked the wind.
Combing my hair
With gusto and purpose
She blew them all over my face.
Tell my my tears,
I asked the sand.
Warm granules, cozy toe blankets
A single grain
stuck in a teardrop.
Tell me my tears,
I asked the sea.
Curlicued tides, looping, lost
Salty to heal
Between coming and going.
Tell me my tears,
I asked my Beloved—
and waited.
by the Rev. Lyn G. Brakeman
Left Out Of The Bible
What Adam said to Eve
As they lay in the dark
Honey, what’s making
That dog out there bark?
by Charles Simic
What Eve said to Adam
As they lay in the dark
Honey, just noticed
Not ticklish anymore.
by Lyn G. Brakeman
Last Prayer
Dear Coherent Mercy: Thanks. Best life ever.
Personally, I never thought a cool woman would come close to understanding me, let alone understanding me but liking me anyway, but that happened!
And You and I both remember that doctor in Boston saying polite but businesslike that we would not have children but then came three children fast and furious!
And no man ever had better friends, and no man ever had a happier childhood and wilder brothers and a sweeter sister, and I was that rare guy who not only loved but liked his parents and loved sitting and drinking tea and listening to them!
And You let me write some books that weren’t half bad, and I got to have a career that no kidding helped some kids wake up to their best selves, and no one ever laughed more at the ocean of hilarious things in this world, or gaped more in astonishment at the wealth of miracles everywhere every moment.
I could complain a little here about the long years of back pain and the occasional awful heartbreak, but Lord those things were infinitesimal against the slather of gifts You gave mere me, a muddle of a man, so often selfish and small. But no man was ever more grateful for Your profligate generosity, and here at the very end, here in my last lines, I close my eyes and weep with joy that I was alive, and blessed beyond measure, and might well be headed back home to the incomprehensible Love from which I came, mewling, many years ago.
But hey, listen, can I ask you one last favor? If I am sent back for another life, can I meet my lovely bride again? In whatever form? Could we be hawks, or otters maybe? And can we have the same kids again if possible? And if I get one friend again, can I have my buddy Pete? He was a huge guy in this life—make him the biggest otter ever and I’ll know him right away, okay?
Thanks, Boss. Thanks from the bottom of my heart. See You soon.
Remember—otters. Otters rule. And so:amen.
by Brian Doyle
