wordsworth

Yesterday I woke at the beach with Ellen beside me and after twenty minutes of streching my legs under the covers I padded out to the living room in my stocking feet to find my mother busy with her daily journal to God, the Father, and Judge of the quick and the dead. It stirred something in me to see her doing again what I’d seen her doing every morning of 2009 during the nine months of my exile from the home that Jen and Ellen and I had made in the unsettled wilderness of LeJuene Heights with the roar of airplanes overhead, the whispers of the homeless, the howl of feral house cats, the shots in the dark.

What healing did my mother ask of God? What hopes did she put to paper in her journal? What would I ask? Hope?

I would ask for the courage to uncover my talents, to go forward with my simple plan, to start my door-2-door witness. I know now that I must account for a two week lead time for the production and shipment of the doorknob hangers I would like to print and distribute. And I can assume that it would take about two weeks to sell the twenty spaces on the hanger. Sales could be sped along by offering them on trade through Florida Barter and Barter First.

I would hope that for today I can put my mind to the schedule that will be required to produce this doorhanger.

For Jen I would ask for the courage and serenity she may need to look honestly back through her memories to find how they echo still in the present.

For Ellen I would ask for a spirit of love and compassion to share with all she meets.