the itch is strong today to pour out all the bad news today, but that’s not what this is about.
instead i will tell you that I went on a walk in my neighborhood this evening, and it was warm and muggy and spring-like, my hair softly frizzing and buds slowly forming. my daughter told me how good horses smell which reminded me intensely of what it is like to be eight years old and in love with and anxious about the world. i saw the old man with the white beard slowly strolling by in his electric wheelchair. i remembered how earlier in the day my son had showed me a lego contraption he had made, “kylo ren’s puppy machine.” “oh, does it make puppies? that’s amazing” I had said. “no, it’s not amazing” he had told me, extremely serious. “because they are monster puppies.”
i laughed just at that memory, and then while walking past a house i smelled melting votive candles so strongly i did a double-take just to make sure we weren’t actually in a cathedral, or that the house wasn’t burning down. i saw nothing, heard nothing; i just smelt the wax and the wick, i was transported to places that reminded my of prayer.
as i walked back to my house i tried to remember this. i continued to smell candles the whole way, certain there was something wrong in my brain. the whole earth is the lord’s, even the sad and the annoying and the broken parts. and always, especially, the amazing parts.