Sunday, February 22, 2009

17th Century Nun's Prayer

Lord you know better than I know myself that I am growing older and will some day be old.

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out every body's affairs.

Make me thoughtful but not moody, helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but You know Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details, give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pain, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint, some of them are so hard to live with, but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good in unexpected places, talents in unexpected people, and give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.

I need to pray this daily!

Thursday, February 12, 2009


We have a program here in the Arkasnas Diocese of the Episcopal Church called Seadworks that explores personal spirituality through dreams. I have never been much of a believer in the work this group does, although I know that many people benefit greatly from it.

I do think that our subconscious speaks to us through our dreams and that if we understand what they mean we can get new insights about ourselves.

I dreamed last night of Mother and Daddy, together, for the first time. Although the edges of the dream became vague after I woke up, the main part of it remains clear in my mind. They were in a small cottage furnished with a bed and two comfortable chairs. Mother was cooking something on a camp stove and Daddy was working on a balkly window shade. I was there and they were discussing arrangements for an air mattress for me to sleep on.

That is what I remember now in the light of day. Very mundane things, but so typical of their life. My subconscious reminding me they are together and happy?

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Redheaded Females

I imagine everyone knows that Elizabeth I was a red head, but did you know that Cleopatra had red hair, and my favorite poet, Emily Dickinson was also red headed. I have red heads in my more immediate life, the niece to whom I am "tamsaunt" is a red head, with a gene from her grandfather, my dad.
But the red headed female with which I am most intimately involved is Bella, the cat
Red heads are characterized in stereotype as being fiery tempered and Bella certainly fits that description. When held down for a pedicure or immunization she hisses and spits with vehemence. But when released she will lick the hand that held her, so she doesn’t hold a grudge.
But nowhere does her redheadedness show more than with Fred, the new guy on the block. Fred is a pretty laid back guy, and since he was used to being with older cats he accepts her dominance–mostly. But when she has picked just a little too much, he will stand his ground, rearing up on his hindquarters and fending her off with his front paws. When things get too tense, he comes and sits on my lap and lets me do the fending off.
There are days when I despair of ever having real harmony in the house again, and then we will have two or three days when she seems to be accepting him.. I take hope in those days, but yesterday was not one of them! So, here’s to redheads everwhere.