Saturday, March 30, 2013


Circles.  Radiating ripples that pulse through my life. Circles on circles. 
I wear one on my finger, speckled with diamonds. 
They shine with energy around our kitchen table on Sunday evenings, all achatter and thick with love.
They are warm and white in sacred rooms in sacred places. 
They wrap soft cotton towels around my grand babies, fresh from the bath, all scented with No More Tears.
They are hands placed on my weary head, circles of Priesthood power.
They are bearers of pall, and keepers of the campfire flame.
They are helpful hands wiping white dinner plates.
Circles on circles.

On this warm autumn day the men I love stood in a circle to erect our new flagpole.  When David had completed his 12 years of public service as a city councilman and then as mayor, our dear friends and neighbors had pitched in and surprised us with a flagpole in our front yard.  It was a beautiful, extremely thoughtful gift.  I remember driving into our cul-de-sac after a trip to Michigan that summer and noticing Old Glory waving from a tall silver pole in our front yard.  They had purchased and erected the pole while we were gone.  It is one of the most meaningful gifts we have ever received.  But in the wicked winds of December 2011 the pole was bent.  So we finally replaced it last autumn.  The men who mean so much to me gathered in a circle and raised the pole, like they had done in my mother's yard a few years back. It looked rather like that famous photo of soldiers raising the flag on Iwo Jima. 

My man is a patriot.  Every time we drive into our driveway he comments on how lovely the flag looks, its sharp crisp colors looking so noble against the deep red brick of our house and the emerald green of the oak and pear and evergreen trees.  That patriotic bend is something my mother and husband share.  I feel them both encircling me with their devotion, to God, to family, to country.  And I am grateful that the circles of people in my life love the things and places and people I love.
My favorite circle, I must say, is made by the arms of the man I love, wrapped around me.
Delicious, yummy, squeeze tight circles.
(Happy Birthday, man of my dreams.)


  1. i can hardly believe that your lent writing is done. i know how hard this is for you. how "zapping" of your enegry it is. but that energy is in turn given to us, as readers, in renewed strength, hope, laughter and love. thank you!
    please keep writing when you can. i will check back often. lymtywek

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