Last year, I wrote about picking my son up from the nursery after our church’s Ash Wednesday service. I was ripe with pregnancy. And not in the good way. I was ripe in the “my due date is in two days” way. I wobbled, waddled and winced (in that order) while I made my way down the aisle to get the markings of the cross on my head. My husband had a work thing that night. So I had packed... Read more
(My New Year’s resolution was to read one poem a day. Every Friday, I share one of those poems with you.) This week I read Rainer Marie Rilke with my writer’s group and discussed one of his poems from The Book of Hours (which I should really read). All that discussing Rilke got me a mood to read back through his selected poems. I don’t remember reading this poem when I read him in grad school. But, this time around, it struck... Read more
You may be shocked to hear this, but sometimes I feel like a loser for being a stay-at-home-mom. (I’m sure you’re not shocked.) Somedays I have greasy hair and wear my pjs until lunch and feel like I’ve got to get a grip quick. Sometimes I think about the working world with an idealistic longing for adult conversation and a feeling of accomplishment and an opportunity to wear smart suit jackets and these shoes (don’t you love using “smart” as a... Read more
“When the time comes for one of the divine offices to begin, as soon as the signal is heard, everyone must set aside whatever they may have in hand and hurry as fast as possible to the oratory, but of course they should do so in a dignified way which avoids giving rise to any boisterous behaviours. The essential point is that nothing should be accounted more important than the work of God” (Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 43). ... Read more
It’s Valentines Day! If you are reading this in the morning, I am probably in my smiliest morning mood, the one I reserve only for special days. August and I will be popping open the can of cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Then we’ll move quick from them into a mid-morning mixing and baking of “pink velvet” cupcakes (box-mix courtesy of World Market). Ahhh, the sugar intake of Valentines Day! I love Valentines Day for its heartfelt kid-ness. I love handmade... Read more
I read this words in bed yesterday morning, in my Christmas pajama pants (yes, I’m still wearing them). And I lifted my face up to the blank white ceiling and half prayed/ half sighed “Yes, Yes, Yes.” Oh, these words, friends. I pray they are just what you need to hear today as well… “If I am appreciated for what I do, what I achieve, I am not in fact unique since someone else can do the same, and probably... Read more
Wallace Stevens is another poet whom I really ought to know better. But, ain’t gonna lie, he’s difficult for me. Any time I read a poet who obviously knows more than I do, I tend to shut down. I want to feel something, not learn something. (I’m an ENFP! Sue me!) So, he’s among the intellectuals who sit in my bookshelf taunting me because I have to look up so many ideas to even understand what they’re getting at.... Read more
I’m a day early for Conversion Diary‘s “7 Quick Takes,” but I’m feeling a little wacky so I’m gonna do it anyway… Two weeks ago, my friend Ali told me about a blog called Momastery. My first (totally vain and selfish) thought was, “Oh no! Someone way cooler than me is writing what I’ve been trying to write but waaaaaay better! I suck.” And then I started reading her, along with what feels like every one else on Twitter…the same... Read more
“All the utensils of the monastery and in fact everything that belongs to the monastery should be cared for as though they were the sacred vessels of the altar…” (The Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 31). If we aim to live as monks, then what else is our home but the monastery? Full of people encountering Jesus in the sacred places: the hallways, the gathering places, the altar. Home is holy: prayer moving through it all day like monks strolling... Read more
Last night, my 89-year-old grandfather fell and hit his head and broke his hip. I got a text from my dad while my boys were in the bath. Time after time, I’ve thought we might lose him. Last year at this time, I was 7 1/2 months pregnant and trying to make plans for how I’d fly home to Amarillo from San Francisco if I was needed. He recovered. He has always recovered. This past year, though, he’s folded deeper... Read more
Micha Boyett
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