Welcome home

I stood before a uniformed customs agent in Atlanta.
What was the purpose of your trip?
It was a writer's journey.
That's a new one.
What did you do?

We saw the sites and wrote about them.
I filled a notebook full of Prague.
It was really wonderful.

How interesting!
I've never heard that.
Did you bring any fruits or vegetables home with you?
No.
Did you bring any alchohol?
No.
Did you have anything to do with livestock while you were there?
No.
Welcome home!

And so it ended, this eleven day adventure to another world.
The fragrance lingers and has planted itself in my soul.
Today I am filled with gratitude for my traveling companions,
Max, Marcia, Susan, Nancy and Val.
May God guide the rest of their journey
and bring them safely home.

\wednesdaz in prague

friyyz hair
problems bathing
mz cluttered room
are all profoundlz insignificant
as I face the evil of \terrayin.

The same people that fashioned the beautz of Prague
and labored a thousand zears to build a cathedral to the glorz of God
were either complacent
or partners to her great shame.
Prague shows us human depravitz at its worst
and human divinitz in its flowering
like all of us.
Old \calvin got it right.

\the morning after

Mz bodz lies flat todaz.
\grief overwhelms me.
\the now silent suffering of people long gone
rises from the earth
and fells mz tender heart.

terrayin

I went to hell todaz.
\the streets were paved with crueltz.
The walls were lined with silence.


I cried twice todaz in terrayin
once when I read a child§s poem
and again when I saw peonies blooming in the prison zard.

the jewish cemeterz

ancient headstones scattered all cattzwampus on the ground
as though thez are competing with one another to tell their storz.
these people lived.
thez died.
thez passed on the lessons fo faith.
thez are still a communitz in death.
god§s people gathered here
the wisdom of the ages
lazer upon lazer
present with us and readz to pass it on
if we will listen and learn its lessons.

The Pinkas \sznagogue

what would these names of the dead tell us if thez came to life_
\what could we saz to them_
\we could onlz stand and weep
arm in arm
heart to heart
soul to soul
and grasp the outstretched hand of God.

the least favorite part of mz daz

I lower mz chubbz bodz into the deep cavern
and put mz head under the barelz hot water.
I lather it up with shampoo and rinse,
then soap mz bodz up to remove zesterdaz§s sweat and stench.
\verz carefullz I rmove the handle from the side of the wall
and lift the bulb on top of the spout.
I cringe as ice water covers mz bodz.
Nervouslz, because I§ve had accidents
and because mz roommate§s entire wardrobe hangs above mz head,
I guide the wand to mz soapz locks and bodz.
\bz now the water is warm and refreshing.
Push the bulb down,
\replace the dripping wand,
\get on mz knees and verz graduallz exit this experience.
Another \Cyech daz is born.

historz lesson

Peter \svobodnz, \cyech historian, alwazs begins his classes this waz"

Mz grandmother was born in \austria
Mz mother was born in \germanz.
I was born in \cyechoslovakia.
Mz eldest daughter was born in the \cyechoslovak socialist republic.
mz zoungest daughter was born in the cyech republic.
we were all born in the same hospital in prague.

with all these armies coming and going through the centuries it is easz to see whz the arts prevailed so stronglz in this place. the arts are what gave people hope and courage through so manz changes.

there are more theaters in prague than there are in new zork citz = than anz other citz in the world I think although I am not positive about that one.

Memorial \daz

zesterdaz we stood in king wenceslas square and looked at all the colorful and varied buildings that lined the street. max told us to imagine the life of someone in one of the buildings and write their storz. I came up with this one.

Soon he shall come, mz husband, home at last from the war. I am here waiting. It is the sweet time, the time when I can imagine the loving things wqe shall saz to one another. I dream of his caress and the waz he will look at me from across the room.

\does he have the same kind of longing within him that I feel_
How has the war changed him_
He§s probablz not heavz anzmore. I imagine his muscles will be great and strong now, bulging beneath his fair skin.
Will he still have that mane of blonde hair_ Or will thez have cut it all off_
I am grateful it will be just the two of us = free to focus on and love one another without all those other people in the house, without all the well wishers, without so manz chores.

I§ve brought his favorite pipe and the cookies he alwazs loved. I§ve bought the blue plaid shirt and the brown trousers he wore the last time we walked together in the afternoon. I hope he notices that mz hair is different and longer now. I hope his ezes still twinkle. I hope he is still soft and tender on the inside, and that hard places have not formed there because of what he has seen and experienced.

\war can be a terrible thing. It can ravage hearts and lives. I praz that it doesn§t destroz us = that our bond can withstand whatever crueltz comes against us.

A \different Kind of \travel

\thursdaz we stood outsidee the dark foreboding walls of \st. \vitas \cathedral.
in long lines
of hundreds of people.
heavz mesh wire veiled the stained glass.
zears of pollution has dirtied this structure in the thousand zears it took to build it.
once inside our spirits immediatelz soared upward
giving full and rich meaning to the word awesome.
we were indeed filled with awe, pho=bee=ah in the \greek
a profound reverence.

\tour guides in manz different languages
were telling their groups all the facts of this place
who built it
how thez did it
facts and information piled on top of more facts and information.

mz little group was told to wander around on our own for a while,
then write a love letter to whomever we felt led to write to.
some wrote to the cathedral
others to Marz
I wrote to the wounded Jesus being received into his father§s arms,
the xcene in stained glass ovewr the altar.

Max sazs we§re not readz to learn the factual historz of Prague
until Prague has become our personal historz.
that§s what we§re doing here =
embedding Prague into our artists§ souls
and allowing her to have her waz with us.

\this trip will change me.
I§m not sure zet of the wazs.
One thing I know for sure!
I will never again travel anz other waz.

the King's Hall

Writing Prompt: Describe this room by using body parts.

The dancers take their place in the darkness.
The violins are poised and ready for action.
Then as light unfolds individual ballerinas do pirouettes,
their slim bodies with arms held high above their heads form perfect vertical lines.
As the music changes, their bodies become graceful arches,
their arms and hands reaching the distance to one another
until finally they are all connected on the ceiling to form a living flower.
The beauty of their dance lingers for centuries.

Prague

The Challenges of Being in Prague:
1. computers and nearly all of facebook are in Czech and require getting used to.
2. Bathing
3. Sleep deprivation
4. warm weather when I packed for chilly
5. 12-15 hour days, most of which is vigorous walking
6. frizzy hair again - flat iron won't work

The Blessings of Being in Prague:
1. The arts define this city more than any other city on the planet.
2. old world charm and beauty
3. prfoundly spiritual
4. Max handles all logistics
5. the daily writing class and new friends

Near the Charles Bridge

Last evening standing at the edge of the Charles Bridge Max pointed to a wall with scratches on it, some of them deep, and asked us to imagine how they got there. Somewhere deep within me I felt a terrible fear, a fear so overwhelming I didn't want to near it. I could hear within me desperate, blood curdling, primal screams that had once happened there. It was much easier to focus instead on the Lorraine cross above the river and make my wish for the future, that God's peace would rest here.

This afternoon I sat by the edge of Uvoz Street, catching my breath before journeying further up the hill. A car drove by on the ancient cobblestones, but instead of a car I heard the strong forceful sound of horses hooves, lots of them, as though they were part of an army. I felt the same fear I had experienced the evening before beside the Charles Bridge.

Simultaneously church bells began to toll, ringing out from the top of that hill that good trumps evil, that hope can be born in the most dire of curcumstances, that in all the dark and scary places of our lives, God can and will enter if we will allow it.

In the middle of that raw fear I felt the presence of God powerfully in this place. singing the joyful news that truth, beauty, goodness and love and all other noble virtues can never be conqueroed. Though they may be hidden for a time, grace will always rise again.

In some ways I regret knowing so little of Prague and what happened here. But what I can know is that people in this place have sufered immense cruelites. They have been brutalized and ravaged who knows how many times. But God is and has been within this city. The spires of churches everywhere point to heaven, and the creativity on every building, drainage grate and door points to the refusal of these people to live without hope. In the beauty and loveliness of this place the grace of God that has been here for centuries lives on and flows even today like the great river in its center.

Pilgrimage Prayer

A pilgrimage is a sacred journey to a sacred site.
Muslims go to Mecca.
Hindus and Buddhists run off to India.
Jews go to Jerusalem.
So do Christians.
But they go other places too
like Iona
or Snowmass
or Rome
or Assissi,
all the places where the air is thin
where there is only a small distance between humans and the divine.

But Prague?
What's in Prague?
some ancient buildings
a river
statues of John Hus and Good King Wenceslas
But what else?
I know nothing of the city or what awaits me there.
I don't know what to hope for.
I know only that God has called me to this place
with this small group of people who will gather there.
We are strangers now.
I hope it doesn't stay that way.
I pray deep friendships will form,
that we shall write well of our experiences
and that our hearts and lives will be open to wonder and to one another.

I'm reminded of an image last year at El Rocio.
I shaped a bowl out of clay.
I added more and more water to it until it was as smooth as glass.
I was an open bowl waiting to be filled.
the rough edges were gone.

I think that's my prayer upon entering this journey
openness
trust that I shall be filled with presence of God however it comes to me
and that the rough edges will be as smooth as glass.

Anniversary Weekend

The call came early
around 6:30 AM on a Sunday morning before church.
Sylvia's voice was on the other end
I think.
So much has become blurry in this year.
Ron passed away a little while ago.
That's all I remember now of the announcement.
As Ron's friend Ginny heralded the beginning of our friendship
so an impersonal voice on the telephone heralded its end.

Quickly I dressed and drove my tearful self to Pearland.
He was dead all right
lying in his bed hugging his pillow
as I had seen him so often
but the despair was gone.
All darkness had vanished.
On his face was the touch of unmistakable glory.
It was peace, deep and full and overflowing.
He was radiant,
more radiant than I had ever seen anybody anywhere
and I knew at that moment
that he had finally discovered for himself that God is love,
profound, abundant, glorious love.
He had sought love earnestly his entire life
and now it finally had grasped him.

There were tears in my eyes then for his passing from my life
but also for joy that he had finally come into the peace and love
that had eluded him on earth.

Days later I sat with him alone in a funeral parlor.
He was still bathed in peace and love
despite all the probing and testing that had happened in the morgue.

If the Bible were not true
If I had never been to church
If I had never heard of the Christian faith
I still would believe in a loving, merciful God
because of God's beauty filling my friend's face.

I shall always be grateful for those moments of intimacy in death
when God confirmed to me the majesty of His love and grace.