Love Calls Us to the Things of This World

I’m tired. Shaky. Weepy, even. The last two days have been really difficult. Watching my stat counter blow up has not really made up for the difficult discussions raging in my combox. They’re tame discussions, actually, by normal blogging standards, but I don’t blog about things like this very often. I’m not used to this.

Then there’s the added pressure of new followers and higher readers than I’ve ever had before. Don’t get me wrong, I’m about as grateful as a person can be to Darwin for posting my story all over the internet, but it does take a toll on a blogger, having new and unfamiliar readers. They came to me at the top of my game. Will I let them down with my posts hereafter? I hope not.

In any case, the exchanges in my combox have made me hyper-aware of just how little human beings love each other. Me included. I was angry when I wrote my last post. I was angry that someone could believe that a baby, a child just as precious to God as my Sienna, could be “terminated” after careful consideration. I was angry that someone would believe that killing her own child would have no effect on a mother. I was angry that someone would accuse me of oppressing women, or wanting all women to be barefoot and pregnant.

In my anger, did I miss a chance to love someone? Did I miss a chance to show them the face of Christ? I’ve always considered abortion to be the one issue about which we’re free to overturn tables in our anger and indignation. But then again, we’re dealing with people here. Real people, with real souls, real feelings, and real value to God. Perhaps being angry will just push them further from the light, when we should be drawing them in. I don’t know.

I do know that I’m feeling weary of debates and contention. Like the Anchoress, I feel like we need something to draw us together. As is my wont, when this sort of soul-weariness strikes, I turn to my favorite poet, Richard Wilbur. I love this poem for so many reasons, but today I love it the most for the fifth stanza. Indeed, we are all made of different hunks and colors. But we’re all in this world together.

Love Calls Us to the Things of This World

      The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple
As false dawn.
          Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.

     Some are in bed-sheets, some are in blouses,
Some are in smocks: but truly there they are.
Now they are rising together in calm swells
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they wear
With the deep joy of their impersonal breathing;

    Now they are flying in place, conveying
The terrible speed of their omnipresence, moving
And staying like white water; and now of a sudden
They swoon down into so rapt a quiet
That nobody seems to be there.
                      The soul shrinks

     From all that is about to remember,
From the punctual rape of every blessed day,
And cries,
         “Oh, let there be nothing on earth but laundry,
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam
And clear dances done in the sight of heaven.”

      Yet, as the sun acknowledges
With a warm look the world’s hunks and colors,
The soul descends once more in bitter love
To accept the waking body, saying now
In a changed voice as the man yawns and rises,

    “Bring them down from their ruddy gallows;
Let there be clean linen for the backs of thieves;
Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be undone,
And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure floating
Of dark habits,
            keeping their difficult balance.”

What about you? What balm soothes your soul when you grow weary of the contention among us? 

  • Mary Poppins NOT

    Write it, and they will come. You are that good.And there is such a thing as righteous anger; the trick is to do it out of love. I have no idea if you achieved that, but it is clear you desire to, and I am certain, with time, prayer, suffering and love, you will.

  • KT

    I don't know if "Choice" is following this thread anymore, but after reading the comments bounce all around I felt compelled to say something.Choice, is you read this, please understand that though there are many times I felt trapped in a "Catholic Bubble" and have read many, many blogs that were pretty unwelcoming to non-Catholics, I would not say this is one of them. The nice thing about blogs is that you can say whatever you want. Calah isn't writing for the NYT or something. She is a mom with a story to tell, a talent for telling it and a conviction about her faith and morality. Simple as that. Yes, many if not all of her readers are pro-life, but so what? Don't you prefer to read sites that appeal to your sensibilities? I think she has been more than accomodating to your opinion, even if some of the others have not.I am pro-life, but I'm also a convert to Catholicsm and have spent a lot of time immersed in the way all of the beliefs tie together, really learning about them and understanding how it all makes sense. Perhaps if you read the Theology of the Body it might help you to see why Catholics are so adamant about life issues. It's all connected. It's not just a mandate from the Vatican, it is a very intricate and interwoven system of belief that is based on trust of your spouse, openess to life and the readiness to have children before having sex. It's not, as you said, ok to just have a kid and get married. Yes, that happens, but the design of the Church's teachings on sex and life are more than that. I think if you were really open to understanding it it might give you some insight on Catholoicsim. I for one would hate to think that the comments on a blog would turn you off to it so completely. You seem really open to discussion and understanding. If nothing else it would help you shape your own convictions even more. For me the teachings are very much based on common sense, which was comforting for a skeptic raised by Atheists. Good luck to you, and I am glad that we as women can all come together and talk like this. Our great grandmothers would be proud of how far we have come in having our voices heard.