I am in love...

...and this time, it's for real. My newly beloved is... Wilco. (Oh darling, you were right there in front of me for so long, how come I never knew before you were The One?)

A few random bits to keep you abreast of latest developments:

I have learned recently that is is not good for poets to work full-time. Cuts down all that precious and necessary time staring out of windows. But there are some upsides: for one, I am drinking a glass of white wine from a $15 bottle, as opposed to a $7 one. And, this week, I bought a guitar: a lean, mean 3/4 size Jr Jay (don't laugh, it's black and it kicks friggin' arse.) And I also have--get a load of this--a gig bag. Really. Like I'm gonna have gigs...

In ten days I am running the 8k road race put on by the Royal Vic Marathon. To prepare for this, I have ran twice this week for one hour--I still can't quite believe I can do this, I who have only started running in February (I can still being remember being thrilled to bits when I could run for eight consecutive minutes.) It's quite amazing what the body will do, once set in motion. And this is another thing I've learned: it isn't harder to run for an hour than it is to run for half an hour (my usual running time)--it just takes longer.

There is a new cat in my life: her name is Zola (after the 19th century French novelist, for those who need to be told.) She has been living on the property now for several weeks, I give her food and love and for this she follows me to my car and runs after me when I get home. But she won't come inside--she doesn't dig my cat Mr. Darcy, hisses and growls, even though he's being a sweetie to her and puts up with her crap. Well, maybe she's been hurt in the past, and is afraid to let her guard down, to be vulnerable. Maybe she'll open up.

There is an abnormally large amount of colons in this post.

I am the speaker at a youth retreat at the end of the month. I will be speaking to them about prayer--basically telling them all I didn't get to say in my sermon (see 2nd to last post) last month. Plus I have some wacky ideas: (there goes another colon!) I want to talk to them about Brother Lawrence and the Incarnation, and then make them peel potaotes and wash windows prayerfully. Ya. But the fact that I am a speaker at a youth retreat is fundamentally scary, for it means I am old enought to be a speaker at a youth retreat.

Well, I will have a gig: October 23, Thetis Island, Place retreat. I've been threatening for three years to play at the open mic (enough poetry already!)--there is no more escaping it. Now that I know for sure we are a community of grace...

Goodnight now: the nights are getting longer, they better be good.

Our Father, that art in Breslan

Precious Lord Jesus--

In the face of tragedy, our words become tragically weak. The words we have learned to rely on--hope, praise, love, mercy--seem to lose their power in the face of some other words. Today, those are: Breslan, Russia; school bloodbath; murdered children. It's at times like these that we are grateful that You have taught us words to pray.

So that, as we consider heartache beyond imagination tearing families apart, we are grateful that You taught us to pray, Our Father.

As we think of at least 350 souls that have left this world too early, and horribly, as we try no to think about what their last moments on this earth were like, we are grateful that You have taught us to pray, That art in Heaven.

You have asked us to praise You at all times, and right now we might not know how to do so, had You not taught us to say, Hallowed be Thy name.

As our hearts fill with grief, anger, incomprehension, desire for retribution, helplessness, as we who have only seen and read reports of this tragedy begin to despair of this world, and begin to long for a new one, we are grateful that You have taught us to pray, Thy Kingdom come.

Lord, we feel helpless. What can we do to alleviate such pain, to counter such evil? One thing you have taught us to do--that is, to pray, Thy will be done.

Jesus, we pray this with confidence. We pray this boldly. For there is no tragedy so big that You are not the Lord of it. No grief so deep that you cannot comfort it. No sin so awful that you cannot redeem it. No day so dark that you cannot lighten it. It is for these things that we ask when we pray, Give us this day our daily bread.

Lord, You have some to us with teachings both beautiful and terrible--You came to teach us forgiveness. The very concept of it is unthinkable right now, to those who have lost so much. But the time will come for it, and in this You have shown us the way, and taught us to pray, Forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Preserve us, O Lord, from such bloodshed and horror. Preserve us from the darkness that lurks in our very hearts. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.

For You are Lord, and King, and loving, and just, and You heart breaks as ours do over Breslan, Russia, and yet, even now, You are preparing Your good works, on this, this earth that You made, and called good.

For Thine art the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory, forever and ever.

Amen