Why Can't You?

So we've entered a new phase of parenthood--I fear this one will last at least through her teenage years. It is the "Why can't you?" "Why didn't you?" and the "Why won't you?" phase. I get asked questions along these lines all day long. As I sit here now, she's just asked me a particularily ticklish duo. The first one was "Why do you always rub yogurt into my arms?" (I have no recollection of EVER doing this and am completely stumped about how to respond). Before I've had a chance to pull together an answer she says, "And why can't you turn me into Wonder Woman?" Again, I'm stumped. So she prods a little. "It's easy," she says. "All I need is a crown."

Hmmm. So that's how it works. Perhaps I should get MYSELF a crown. If I were Wonder Woman I might be able to find myself some answers.

Ice Cream with Sally

John's Beloved Grandparents, Sally and Warren (with Anna) in NY

ICE CREAM WITH SALLY

I asked you, Sally, as ice cream dripped from the spoon,
If it tasted good.
“Are you kidding?” you said. “This stuff is the best.”
I lifted the spoon to your mouth.
A vanilla tear fell on your shirt.
But you didn’t see.

A faint spark
As if you’re straining
To remember
As if, for a moment
You do.

I lift the spoon to your mouth,
one more time.
You pucker around a peach.
Chewing, thinking,
or not thinking.

You are empty
And you are full.
I put the spoon down.

With you I am empty.
digesting this new awareness,
And letting it fill me.

When God is Absent

I can't resist putting up another Bloom quote. This one is nourishing:

"The day when God is absent, when He is silent--that is the beginning of prayer. Not when we have a lot to say, but when we say to God, 'I can't live without you. Why are you so cruel, so silent?' This knowledge that we must find or die--that makes us break through to the place where we are in the Presence. If we listen to what our hearts know of love and longing and are never afraid of despair, we find that victory is is always there on the other side of it."

An Unsaintly Moment

In Beginning to Pray, Met. Anthony Bloom gave this advice to a young person who had been praying for hours and hours at a time but felt that he couldn't bear to keep it up any longer:

"There are moments when you can tell God 'I simply must have a rest. I have no strength to be with you all of the time,' which is perfectly true. You are still not capible of bearing God's company of all the time. Well, say so. God knows that perfectly well, whatever you do about it. Go apart, say for a moment, 'I'll just have a rest. For the moment I accept to be less saintly.'"