Matissta asked that we post a poem as she tenderly tends to Momista's needs. Flannista and treesta thought "Let Evening Come" by Jane Kenyon would be appropriate. Matissta agreed. Over the years, it seems to have become the vigil poem of the sassosphere. Please post your own prayers, chants and thoughts. Love to all.
Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.
PEACE gifted this poem to me and my Mom in the sassosphere's vigil for my mother, and had such meaning. I gift it now to Matiss and Momista, with love.
What is life...
It is the flash
of a firefly
in the night.
It is the breath
of a buffalo
in the wintertime.
It is the little shadow
which runs across the grass
and loses itself in the sunset.
-- Crowfoot
In her time and way, may Momista lose herself in the sunset, in the warmth, in the light of her family's love.
Posted by: treesta | January 23, 2013 at 05:59 AM
Am at Matissta's with Huck. Woke up to these emails:
I am very sorry that I was mistaken about Momista's respirator being seen as an "heroic measure". Her proxy stated that it had to be confirmed by two doctors and not just one. The email from Matiss this morning at 12:11 a.m.:
"On respirator. And now morphine. Didn't even know we were here."
An email at 12:51 a.m.:
We're going to make an appt. to meet with the palliative care group tomorrow."
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 06:06 AM
I do not think that Sista C will mind me posting that she has had to make a last-minute trip to Mississippi to see her mom as her mom's health is failing. If you recall, Sista C's father died last year.
Travel blessings to her.
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 06:07 AM
I need to take care of Huck now and then review a presentation I prepared for a two-hour, PART ONE of a storytelling workshop for retirees later this morning.
Inspiring 70- and 80-year-olds to tell their stories has taken on profound meaning to me these days.
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 06:10 AM
Waiting in vigil for a parent must ultimately be experienced within one's heart, and I know Matiss that you are a private person. Also know with surety that you are enveloped in a circle of beloveds and friends who are standing with you and your Mom, praying for you, thinking of you, and holding you all near and dear.
Posted by: treesta | January 23, 2013 at 06:23 AM
Flann, please be careful traveling, as I know your thoughts are constantly with your love.
Posted by: treesta | January 23, 2013 at 06:24 AM
Just talked with Matissta. She is at the hospital. Momista recognized her.
Holy God, have mercy on your servants.
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 09:04 AM
I've lighted a candle on my kitchen counter for Momista, Matissta ... all of us. The scent name is printed on the bottom of the candle jar: Mother's Love. I bought it in northern Wisconsin, before my own mother died. One day, this candle will be gone, but for now, the air is filled with mother's love and it is very sweet.
Posted by: PEACEsista | January 23, 2013 at 09:34 AM
A beautiful gesture, PEACEsista -- liturgical, even.
Thank you.
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 09:38 AM
Before I leave for my presentation, I am listening to Jennifer Berezan's recording of "Returning":
Returning, returning, returning to the Mother of us all.
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 09:41 AM
Thinking of you...
Posted by: frida | January 23, 2013 at 11:01 AM
Am back from my storytelling presentation. Have heard from Matissta a couple of times.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 01:48 PM
Thinking of you Matissta. Sending tender pulses of caring and support to you. Admiring the way you take on life and care about people. Thinking of your Mom. Honoring her private, soulful journey home. Thinking of the loving bond between you, daughter and mother, friendship. Celebrating the mystery that love can transcend space, time.
Posted by: Emily | January 23, 2013 at 01:50 PM
Matissta, may I repeat here a lovely song for the soul that Flannista introduced me to in 1992. It helped me then, as my family faced the uncertainty you face now.
As swimmers dare
to lie face to sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit's deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.
--"The Avowal"
Denise Levertov
Posted by: Ella Slesnick | January 23, 2013 at 05:48 PM
Ella -- treesta will attest that reading this comment brought tears to my eyes. You have been one of my most dear and long-term angels. Thank you.
Talked to Matissta about 45 minutes ago. All remains the same for now, except, of course, that Matissta's life will never be the same.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.
Posted by: Flannista | January 23, 2013 at 08:32 PM
No news overnight.
Posted by: Flannista | January 24, 2013 at 06:33 AM
Good morning, everyone. Matiss, we wait with you.
Posted by: treesta | January 24, 2013 at 07:10 AM
We look with uncertainty
Beyond the old choices for
Clear-cut answers
To a softer, more permeable aliveness
Which is every moment
At the brink of death;
For something new is being born in us
If we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
Awaiting that which comes ...
Daring to be human creatures.
Vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love.
~ Anne Hillman
Posted by: PEACEsista | January 24, 2013 at 09:51 AM
Beautiful, PEACE.
Posted by: treesta | January 24, 2013 at 10:21 AM
Thank you, PEACEsista.
Learning to love at times like these totally sucks, I have to confess, but I trust that there is some sort of beauty -- the birth of something new -- on the other side of the doorway.
Posted by: Flannista | January 24, 2013 at 10:24 AM
In the category of, "I-can't-make-up-this-stuff", I just looked out into my backyard. I've been watching the birds all morning, eating with a frenzy. I had to go out and fill up the feeders again. Anyhoo, when I looked there was not one bird in sight. Then I saw it -- sitting on top of the main bird feeder -- a HUGE red-tailed hawk, just sitting there like it was keeping vigil.
I looked up the meaning of seeing a hawk in the book, Animal Speak: The Spiritual and Magical Powers of Creatures Great & Small that PEACEsista gifted to me several years ago. Here's what the book specifically says about a red-tailed hawk:
"This powerful bird can awaken visionary power and lead you to your life purpose. It is the messenger bird, and whenever it shows up, pay attention. There is a message coming."
Needless to say, I'm paying attention.
Posted by: Flannista | January 24, 2013 at 10:34 AM
Beautiful, Flann:
"For something new is being born in us
If we but let it."
Posted by: PEACEsista | January 24, 2013 at 10:45 AM
Daring to be human creatures.
Vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love.
Posted by: Justista | January 24, 2013 at 12:15 PM
Just as Let Evening Come seems to have become our vigil poem in the 'sphere, so to have we had sightings of hawks during our times of vigil. There is something in that energy that is important to our community.
Posted by: treesta | January 24, 2013 at 01:47 PM
The code thingy 8-ball just now was 'signs'. Truly.
Posted by: treesta | January 24, 2013 at 01:48 PM