When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
–Mary Oliver

The weather has turned cooler—I’ve actually had to put socks on! The air is crystal clear, and the morning sun coming in the window feels wonderful on my back.

There is so much change in the air right now. This seems to be the time of year for women around here to have babies—I know of four all due here in about a two week period. K* had her baby boy yesterday, and B* had a baby girl about a week ago. M* is due in the next week and a half or so, and today I’m excitedly planning a very small and intimate blessingway for her. It’s been up in the air because of how much she’s had going on (she just adopted a seven month old adorable baby boy from Guatemala a month ago! One of those stories you hear about couples getting pregnant after adopting!); I’m just thrilled that we are going to have a chance to honor her new motherhood.

A friend—or actually, for me, more of an aquaintance—died a couple of days ago. A* spoke eloquently of him over at her place. Even though I didn’t know him well, I’m feeling very aware of the hole he left in the fabric of our community.

Yesterday a neighbor stopped by to introduce himself and invite us to church. His wife had died in March, and he ended up telling me, in detail, about her last night. As he was leaving, he said that when she was still alive, she’d get home around four or five in the afternoon, and that’s where he wanted to be. But now….he just doesn’t know where he wants to be. I ached for him—I could feel that huge, ragged hole in his life.

So—all these comings and goings—our time here seems so short sometimes. I’m feeling wide open and terribly tender towards my loved ones; I want to be more present with them, instead of so caught up in just getting done what needs to be done.

Life is so sweet….