The Price We Pay

I don't know what happened to me when my daughter got so sick;
I felt that my mother's God, on my daughter, had played a trick.
My mother always said that the bad that happened to me
Was because of sins I committed, and that God could see.

I had learned, at an early age, that sins of the parents
Were passed on to the children, who had to do penance.
How was I to undo my children's problems I caused?
I offered myself as penance for breaking God's laws.

But I knew I was not worthy to be human sacrifice;
Only innocent souls would, as scapegoats, suffice.
My children let me know I make their pain worse;
I will left them alone, rather than continue the curse.

I was taught The "Divine Father" of Jesus, the Christ
Demanded that his own son die as a human sacrifice.
How could I believe in scripture and not firmly believe
My sins led to my children's destruction, like those of Eve?

Watching mistakes repeated by my daughter and son,
I could not abide more shame for what I have done.
I wished that they could start over from another womb,
And let my evil be taken with me to my tomb.

There are those who now say that Christianity
Is about how much Jesus and his father love me.
They refuse to admit that, for many generations,
Religion was about redeeming ancestral obligation.

Coming back to my roots and my mother's death
Has put my relationships and shame to the test.
I have struggled to define my own Holy Spirit;
I'm not comfortable, on others, in judgement, to sit.

But there are many behaviors in which I see danger;
My pointing them out seems to cause much anger.
I've have often been told to shut up and go away;
Many people don't want to hear what I have to say.

They have told me so many of their deepest secrets,
I think they, have since then, come to regret.
I have held their hurts, for years, in my heart;
Am I to be silent as, their mistakes, they restart?

Does my responsibility as "my brother's keeper"
Permit me to silently welcome the "grim reaper",
Whether that reaper is the one who perverts souls,
Or the one who finally reclaims the sick and the old?

The Ten Commandments seem such basic laws,
Yet they have, for generations, given pause.
I am so tired of the parsing of details,
Knowing many believers have become derailed.

Forget about what your "god" will forgive;
Save the communities in which we live.
My "God" doesn't want sacrifice of a fatted calf;
My "God" wants communities that share a child's laugh.

My "God" doesn't want great temples of gold;
My "God" wants someone to hold the hands of the old.
My "God" doesn't care about "God's" earthly name.
Nor what happens to our bodily remains.

My "God" wants greed and arrogance to cease,
And for all of creation to live in peace.
It is true that there are many natural deaths,
But death is necessary to growth, nonetheless.

We don't know what will be our earthly contribution;
I choose to believe it's not for ancestral retribution.
Until we teach our children they're born with clean slates,
We will live with the destruction that shame creates.


We cannot gestate an innocent human with a soul,
Inside a mother who has stopped being whole.
And until babies' sweet souls can be gestated in peace,
It's unlikely that killing of bodies and souls will cease.

Can We Help Create Heaven on Earth?

The truth is that we will never have justice until we rid ourselves of the idea that there are people who are born to rule over others. Too many generations have justified dictators, emperors, slave holders, and all manner of human bondage and abuse by pointing to scriptural passages that indicate that all leadership comes from "God". We must ask what is the example of their "God"?

Is your "God" a jealous, vengeful father, as so many writers of scripture state as their experience? Is your "God" a gentle Jew walking among men and women, spreading responsibility, compassion, and joyful gratitude? Or is your "God" a Spirit of Holiness that imbues all of creation, especially humankind?

I believe that this is why we need scriptures that have been revealed after the enlightenment of Pentecost descended upon the earth. What Christians believed after the resurrection of the body of Jesus has taken almost two thousand years to begin to be realized. We cannot afford to continue separating people into either saints or sinners based on a creed, or humans and non-humans by the color of their skin. We must have a code of conduct that includes all those willing to live with compassion and responsibility for all of creation, especially the children, the aged, the infirm, and the otherwise vulnerable.

We pretend that those born to privilege are endowed with leadership skills.  Good leadership requires self-discipline, patience, and compassion. Truly anointed leaders don't lead by fear, but by example. With the possible exception of those born severely brain damaged, sometimes through gestational drug addiction or other pre-birth injuries, we are all born with some ability to take personal responsibility. We make a mistake believing that there should be a group of "God"-defined masters to guide the less privileged as a shepherd guides his sheep.

I believe that "righteousness" is handed on, one hand held through the valleys of darkness at a time. Creation is in spiritual crisis, no less severe than are communities hit by tsunamis and hurricanes. When a hurricane hits, all the compassionate join hands with each other, and roll up their sleeves to assist. There is no male nor female, no black nor white. Isn't this how heaven has been described? We are then all created equal. We can spread this throughout creation., if we simply work at it.

What I believe we need is mentors, not masters or mistresses. And I believe that many of the journals of these mentors should indeed be included into sacred scripture. Let's ask those who have brought up compassionate, responsible parents to tell us the stories of their faith and families. Maybe we can create a heaven on earth with a Spirit of Holiness reigning over us all.

Awake and Aware

“It is not good for the man to be alone" -- Genesis 2:18. I believe this means that no human is meant to live completely without other humans. Teenagers seem, like toddlers, to think they are more powerful than they are. Only a strong circle of sober, strong adults can keep them within the bounds of our values.

There is nothing as challenging in life as bringing teenagers into adulthood. In areas where we didn't make it,  it is impossible to lead our children there. This is why children need a network of caring adults, with shared family goals, to help them go through life. Sadly, many children are torn apart by competing, seemingly irreconcilable differences in family values.

I have heard so many parents say that all they want is for their children to be "happy." I have always wanted for my children to be compassionate, responsible citizens. This desire has often kept any of us from feeling "happy" for long periods of time. I have been willing to live with this, but it has been difficult on my marriages and other relationships. When Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy?

I see as a tragedy that too many of us give up on our children's souls in order to have what we call "peace" in our homes. We figure that if we can't beat our children and the world at keeping our children from spiritual harm, we'll simply enjoy the ease of joining them. We drug ourselves and our children and begin on a slippery slope that can lead to the deaths of our souls. Death is, after all, the ultimate "peace," or is it?

When our souls die, our bodies are actually in agony, constantly hungry, for we know not what. It is for a place of peace inside of ourselves and our circle. But if the circle is broken, where can we go to rest? There are so many children broken beyond repair because they have no safe circle to run to and call, "home."


The greatest sin seems to be those who enter those safe circles pretending to be protectors, when in fact, they are predators and people who want to be our children's playmates instead of partners in parenting. Where can a child go from there, especially when maintenance of the circle becomes more important than the child? Drugged parents are not paying attention. Circles of family and of faith are excellent hunting grounds for "virgin" victims. We must all stay awake and aware. Our time to play is after they move away.


With very strong leadership and consistent boundaries, teenagers can feel safe enough to throw themselves against the walls of our love and know that they will be protected from evil, both inside their own heads and from those outside our circles. The important thing is that we have a strong committed circle in which they can act out their crazies. No amount of drugs can make them feel as secure as faithful family circle can.



I have lost so many to drugs long before their bodies died. The pain of looking into the eyes of a loved one and seeing nothing is almost unbearable. Where does the soul go? It seems into hell because those who seek "happiness" in constant "euphoria," whether through drugs or other forms of blocking the senses can no longer handle anything outside of their own "euphoric" states. Even religious ecstasy is wrong when entered into at the expense of the children in our care.

Heaven (The kingdom of "God") on earth is in the sure, loving eyes and hands of others, never completely in our own heads, hearts, or souls, no matter with whom or how hard we pray.

Little Boy Joy

As I sat alternately staring at the
Computer screen and the harbor,
I was writing about our sacred Sunday
When the phone disturbed my mind's order.

It was the man of whom I wrote,
Inviting me to join him for lunch.
He didn't say he missed me,
But I had that strong hunch.

He said he'd give me a tour
Of the progress on the boat.
He'd finished a big project,
And he surely wanted  to gloat.

I do enjoy his little boy joy
In things at which he succeeds.
I think that pure joy is something
That our world now sorely needs.

He confessed as we walked to lunch,
That he had been in withdrawals.
Afterglow is an important step
When our hearts and souls are full.

Why are so many, mostly adults,
Reluctant to express elation,.
Except in those areas that
Don't affect their own situations?

Adults seem able to celebrate openly
The scores of their sports team
And the exploits of celebrities.
Joy in their own lives, rarely seen

We hear about failures and crimes.
We hear about the virtues of humility.
What about the celebration
When we are all that we can be?

Post-Motherhood Marriage

The Spirit was never enough for humans, no matter what some believe;
If "God" thought "God" was enough, there would have never been Eve.
Each of us spends our lives looking for complementary human touch;
There is nothing on earth that we intrinsically crave so much.

The problem comes in when our innocence has been destroyed
By those who find the needs of others as reason to be annoyed.
Even if these people, long-ago, had their innocence perverted,
This is not a justification to have, human compassion, deserted.

Sometimes we have to strip our lives down to the naked truths;
My husband and have never had fresh soil in which to take root.
When we met, I had children, and was soon to be a grandmother.
We never had a time when we could truly forsake all others.

I guess this phrase in scripture refers to sexual infidelity;
From other commitments, to build a marriage, we must break free.
Those who continue to prioritize their families of origin,
Against their own marriages, often commit grievous sin.

Once we are grown, ready to create our own families,
It takes a great deal of focus to create who WE will be.
Those who continue to cling desperately to rules from their pasts
Will have a more difficult time making their own families last.

My husband has been most gracious as I affected a "do over".
I'm quite sure that I was a better granny than a mother.
All the children for whom he put aside his own desires
Have let us know, forcefully, their need for us has expired.

I have let friends know that we are setting new priorities;
Some have accused me of thinking only of ME.
This is probably true; for the first time since I was four,
I have all these choices. I have to choose which door.

My husband spends his days fulfilling his dreams
I have no primary responsibilities, it now seems.
I write because I feel a strong calling to do so;
It's for the pleasure of exchanging ideas, not my ego.

If I could have my fantasy life come completely true,
I'd live in the way that I've read some used to do:
Collecting a salon of philosophers, and artists,
I would then always have growth in our midst.

We would offer them fabulous food and libation,
In exchange for frequent access to their creations.
We would still enjoy a sacred day, for only us;
All the gifts of the past week, we could then discuss.

Parents who've lost touch with each other focusing on progeny
Have new access to adventures when their children break free.
How many of us give up, just when we can reclaim the fun
On which our combined journey through life was begun?

Another Sacred Sunday

The sky was a brilliant blue bouncing off the ripples in the harbor. Richard pointed out that the apparent navy blue of the water was in nice contrast to what he called the cerulean blue of the swimming pool that we look down on from our small balcony. As is our habit on Sunday mornings, we snuggle for a while, then get up and have coffee together, while chatting about anything and everything, from children and grandchildren to world affairs. We also like to make up fantasies about the families, furry and otherwise, that we observe from our rear window.

We were planning to take supper over to the home of a cardiologist friend who literally saved Richard's life in 2000. We always want to provide a special meal for him and his wife, a professional party planner (who was kind enough to provide me with deodorant, toothbrush, and a hairbrush when I began what we thought was Richard's death watch for ten days in ICU). The menu for this meal included Maker's Mark Old Fashioneds, pork tenderloin medallions with a tarragon cream sauce (so good I'd like to bathe in it), steamed fresh, buttered green beans almondine, mushroom risotto (which I chose because I love it but don't have the patience to make it), one of Richard's super tossed salads, and a blueberry-peach galette with fresh whipped cream.

I made him promise to let me assist, in order to free up the time for more snuggling and to go out to breakfast. After a leisurely breakfast at Waffle House, we joined forces in the kitchen, he as chef and I as his assistant (or was it the other way around?).  We cranked up the mood music and went to work. Oh! the slicing, dicing, grating and mincing that went on in that tiny kitchen: peaches, shallots, garlic, parsley, carrots, radishes, mushrooms, onions (red and yellow), peppers, and romaine. Precision, being right up Richard's alley, I am always happy to leave all of these tedious tasks to him.

The only problem was that this left little time for him to do any actual cooking. It fell to me to stir the pots. I don't know how many of you have ever made risotto, but stirring seems to be the most important ingredient: One hour of standing and stirring. Thank goodness I had Richard and wonderful music to keep me company.

Our cooking (and mood music) even brought out the poetic in him as he admitted that he thinks higher math and music can only come from the soul, as they both create something out of nothing. This led to a discussion of how Richard heard on NPR about a group of atheists who so missed the ritual, arts, and camaraderie of religion that they formed their own "church" of sorts. This philosophical discussion from a man who spends five days a week helping to refurbish a seventy-eight foot PT Boat at the National World War II Museum. Macho, macho man...

He is also the man who, before he was introduced to me twenty-three years ago, when told that I like to have discussions about the meaning of life, replied, "I'll show up fifteen minutes early and explain it to her."

Our friends live in a beautifully traditional Garden District home where his mother and father had reared their brood of six. The screened front porch sits atop a "daylight" above ground "basement". With the wonderful "feels like fall" weather, we enjoyed cocktails and appetizers as we breathed in the sounds and scents of Old New Orleans.We then moved inside for Sunday supper

Their home has original artwork everywhere you look, and the table is always beautifully attired for fabulous feasts. This day there was an exquisite ecru cotton crochet tablecloth that they brought back from Brugge, Belgium, and lovely Jazz playing in the background.

The meal was sincerely worth the effort put in. We loved watching and hearing the expressions of delight coming from both of these highly sophisticated palates, and the beautiful Hebrew blessing that our host asked upon us and our offering of fine food was the cherry on our Sacred Sunday.

Why Are We?

Why are we celebrating instead of worrying incessantly
When we reach sixty-five, and are, from our jobs, free?
We then live off the taxes paid by our children's generation;
This isn't what was envisioned as "Social Security" in our nation.

Not one of us wants to see the widowed, orphaned or disabled
Have to beg for a place at our society's abundant table.
We set up a tax-funded programs as a safety net for them,
Not a way out of work for differently-abled women and men.

What horrible abuses of our generosity and naivety
That generation after generation, on our payroll, stay.
These are people who have provided not even a fraction
Of what they will collect from the lobbyist's actions.

If there was a way I could end my life with dignity
So that my grandchildren would be, from my debt, free,
I would gladly give any years I have left to them,
Hoping they will do a better job than my generation.

I am so tired of blowing the horn of consequences
To those who make societal control pretenses.
I now hide behind my home's walls and make pleas
That we will, one day, magical thinking cease.

Each of our actions, including our own speech,
Has long-lasting consequences, perhaps to teach?
It matters not whether we are sober or inebriated,
Our behaviors are that by which our values are rated.

How can we continue to collect on others' sacrifice,
Though we have ample resources, to our needs suffice?
The fallacy of the unregulated stock market is plain to me:
Bankruptcy of the vulnerable, so the rich continue to be.

Don't get me wrong, I am considered part of the rich;
My access to perverse power has long made me itch.
I have given away much of our jointly held resources;
My desire for justice has led to lively discourses.

A whistle blower must have the contacts to infiltrate,
To have the information and terms with which to relate.
I am sickened by what I have gathered from non-profits;
There are many on whom the shoe of corruption fits.

All who want justice in our deeply divided nation
Must unite against our church/state ideation.
A corporation that, by definition, is a sovereign  entity
Shouldn't have privileges from which citizens are free.

I am so tired of the visions and platforms of politicians
Pretending they care about our spiritual convictions.
Only the individual person, not a corporation, has a soul;
Democracy, as its purpose, seeks to include the whole.

I'm not sure that, under a republic, our nation should stay;
I believe that this system has seen its best days.
Because we exempt "our" representatives from our laws,
Our consequences, as citizens, give them little pause.

We go along to get along, believing we have no power,
But rational voices on the internet can grow by the hour.
I'd like to see more about what others truly believe,
Not religious and political messages, by others conceived.

How do we apply our beliefs to our own families?
How do we benefit from caring communities?
What benefits do we each derive from paying tax?
What are we willing, as humans, to give back?

Our country and religions build in protections
We continue to want to age past all projections.
Who is willing to give up some of their own life
To secure, for the next generation, less strife.?