3am thoughts & threads
“…We may be Indian, but by God we ain't dirty!” (Pember 16) The author, Mary Annette Pember, is quoting her mother, a survivor of St. Mary's Indian Boarding School (Odanah), located on the Bad River Reservation and run by the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration. She is referencing her mother's obsessive compulsion to clean and... Continue Reading →
I still have WTF moments, though now I see myself as a person who feels things deeply, including compassion, empathy, and passion.
In my life, the Church is similar to the horror and beauty of Frida Kahlo. It is the beauty of a preserved saint, the architectural beauty of the basilicas and cathedrals of stone and glass, and it is also a pain in my heart that I am reconciling.
But somehow, taking those beautiful notebooks, writing a person's prayer request, and then praying over the book seems not only a prayer, but an act of beauty out of love for God. That difficulty makes the writing itself part of the prayer—each and every word takes effort, and that effort itself is an offering.
I. Torrential rains pour through dilapidated unintended sky lights The tornado warning sirens blare Waters rise and the Lifeboat we bought has floated away. The tornado missed the house… or did it? It’s over I say. Good-bye. II. The dream is different this time instead the Sun casts streams of hope through darkened skies, filled... Continue Reading →
Looking back, I realize that water has been one of the few constants throughout my life. I no longer swim due to disability, but the view of water every single day somehow comforts me. Water is still my companion.
They say the best place to start a story is at the beginning, but whose beginning? Where does my real beginning start? With my parents or with my ancestors? Those mysterious, earthy souls.
“At last,” it sighs, tasting your name without saying it. “Three years of your doubt was the final tempering. The cage is open.”
“And when the Sun rose the next day, He smiled at the little orange blossom, and said, ‘Welcome, fragrant one. Welcome!’”
There are people who walk through this world with a kind of cool that can’t be manufactured. My brother Jimmy was one of them. He once told me he was always trying to catch up to me. I was almost two years older than him—just 25 days short of that. But in so many ways,... Continue Reading →
