Post #20.5, Wednesday, May 12, 2021

Historical setting: 584 C.E. The house of Eve, pagan healer

         Now every rising is grief. It was Nic who understood my circumstance of life and life again and he noticed that would give me so much practice in loosing loved ones I would become “good at grief.” I assured him no one is “good at grief.” And now his death has proved me right.

         Dear God, please don’t allow me push aside my remembrances of our good times in all this hurt. Keep me opened to the shared spirit so his friendship will deepen and sweeten all friendships that may come for me ever and ever. Give me strength not to bury my good thoughts of him just to save myself the tears. Help this hurt become the stretch of new healing. Amen.

         Yea, I’m not good enough at grief to make that a true prayer from my heart. For now it’s just a pale aspiration.

         My real prayer, Dear God, stay near me in this sorrow. Amen.        

         The tray placed by me is a rich feast for a morning meal. I expected fresh bread because the yeasty scent through the house last night told me Eve still takes her sorrows to the kneading board. But these foods speak also of hens and a nanny goat.

         Today I’m able to rise from the bed myself and to stand with no one guiding me on these quivering legs. Nic’s cane has been left near, so now I have the new superpower to rise up and walk just as Nic’s spirit is taking flight. I wonder if the feathers of his wings are in rainbows as I’ve seen in the paintings of Gabriel or simply in pure pale.

          Eve and Anatase are outside in the new, hanging out linens in the sunshine. Anatase with her little scythe has shorn the tall herbs and grasses to nubs. Now the breeze can’t even flatten the grasses as it passes by showing off the great footprints of the invisible master of all that grows green.

         Anatase finishes her chores and hurries in taking a seat on the bench next to me. Whether it’s the flute or the pages I’m happy she’s here.

         “I shall read for you from the pages of the old monk.”

         “Thank you Anatase.  I look forward to it.”

         “How do you know that? You don’t even know what he wanted you to hear about in all those years. Maybe you will regret. You don’t know.”

         “You are right. So read it to me.”

(Continues tomorrow)

Published by J.K. Marlin

Retired church playwright learning new art forms-- fiction writing, in historical context and now blogging these stories. The Lazarus Pages have a recurring character -- best friend of Jesus -- repeatedly waking to life in various periods of church history and spirituality.

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