In a few days the Perseids will peak. A bit of comet detritus the size of a grain of sand will light up a streak across the sky bright enough to be seen with the naked eye, if viewed from a dark place, and there will be lots and lots of them. I grew up in Florida, and my family went down to the Kennedy center to check out the space shuttles as a little girl. I was fascinated by the special tiles the bottoms were covered with to protect them from the heat created by the friction of the atmosphere on re-entry. A loose tile meant that the whole thing could explode. Imagine, going so fast that air could set you on fire.
I haven’t posted at this blog in ages. I’ve been in transition. We moved house (which for a gardener is somewhat traumatic, y’all). Our son’s gone off to college (he’s home for the summer now, but will go back in a few weeks). And we reconciled with the Catholic Church. Like, jumped in with both feet. It’s been quite a journey, and it’s ongoing. As far as I can tell, it’s a journey that doesn’t end, at least not anywhere we can recognize. I’m mining Her treasures. The richest I’ve found is a work from 17th century Spain, by a Carmelite nun named V. Mary of Agreda, The Mystical City of God. It’s kind of like Remembrance of Things Past, except instead of being about the author’s life, it’s about the life of the Holy Mother, from foreknowledge of her in the Mind of God at the creation of the angels, through her Immaculate Conception, until her Coronation in Heaven. It purports to be divinely inspired, and it was raked with a fine-toothed comb by the Spanish Inquisition and found worthy of belief. I’m currently working on a series of prose poems about the 20 mysteries of the Most Holy Rosary, informed by this incredible work. I’m on my second reading.
So, here I am, still here, listening, praying, trying to figure out how best to serve God, and His Holy Mother. The world is a mess, y’all, so there’s no shortage of opportunities for works of mercy, that’s for sure. I hope you’re all making headway on your own journeys, with enough sun through the clouds to reassure you that the light leads you on.