#56.14, Thurs., May 30, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         “So, Brandell, while Gaia was interrogating the nuns, did you find the monks as intimidating as the last time you met with the brothers?”

         “No Papa, it was really very fine.  I think my own brother, Gabe put them up to it.  But I’ve been commissioned to paint a mural of a Jesus story on the wall there that will be visible from the healing waters.”

         “Really? They want you to paint them an icon?”

         “No, a mural, a full, wall-sized picture of a bible story. The people can be life-sized, as though they are in the same room with those actual people praying for healing.”

         “What story are you going to show them?” Maybe I was assuming it would be Lazarus, in his strange state of perpetual healing. I am fully prepared to help him get it right and solve this rumor of a rumor once and for all. But no.

         “They asked me to paint any other healing story and I’ve chosen John 9 the healing of the man who was blind from birth. I will have Jesus kneeling nearly at the edge of the healing waters of the monastery, reaching down as though he was taking mud into his hand. Then a blind man will be there anticipating his new way of seeing when he can use physical eyes to look upon all the things he knows from touch and sound and smell. Behind them will be the faces of all those people, the Romans looking for cause to persecute the pharisees, and the pharisees looking for the rule, the Church doctrine authority, wondering how this could happen at Luxeuil, then the Persians at the silk market, the slaves from the hippodrome, the icon painter, a Master too easily mistaken for God but really just a mad Poseidon up from the depths of the sea. Everyone with every different idea of earthly rule will be there in wonder and awe confused by notions of sin amid the simplicity of a healing.”

         “And you don’t think that will stir the ire of the Church?”

         “Papa, surely you don’t think I am going to put name tags on all those people. Even if everyone knows who they are, no one would dare to say it with words.”

         “How is that spit and mud of a healing story gives the hope for those swimming in the waters of Luxeuil?”

         “Well, in the end Jesus sends the man to the healing waters to wash away the spit and clay. Vision came with washing the things of earth away.”

(Continues, Tuesday, June 4, 2024)

#56.13, Weds., May 29, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         Gaia and Brandell have been at Luxeuil for nearly a week now.  Apparently, Brandell wasn’t sent away for his heresies this time.  When they left here, he was promising Gaia she might find spiritual enrichment in a community of women of faith.  She reminded Brandell their whole long journey to come to Gaul put her into a community of women of faith. Then he reminded her she isn’t Jewish. Christian women have their enclaves as well.

         Now, they are returning – both of them. I greet them and their horses in the stable.

         But I did wonder if Brandell catches the difference in these groups of spiritual women — in Judaism women with families guide the children in recognizing God’s love — but in Christian, as we do Christian here, the women who guide the faith have vowed celibacy. I hope Brandell’s enticement for her to meet the nuns wasn’t a mistake for his own interests in marriage. 

         “How was your encounter with the nuns?” I ask Gaia.

         “It was a wonderful breath of fresh spirit. All those years at the icon booth I’d only heard women speaking of a visual God/Christ. My life with my own mater was so brief, so when we were traveling, and the women were talking openly about the traditions with the Holy, I felt Christianity was lacking something that Jewish women had. Mater Doe, who knows of lots of faiths, said the women’s convent at the monastery would be the best source for me to listen to Christian women of faith. So, Brandell took me to them.

         “Some were there just for the daily rigors of worship, the structure, and the righteousness, but mostly, the women who were there were committed to the holy life because they felt the invisible calling, or maybe a push from God. As I reach for the arm of a sighted person to guide me – they, themselves reach for the invisible guiding arm, and it is always some saint or even Jesus who takes them to God.”

         I ask her flat out on behalf of Brandell, “You weren’t tempted to stay?”

         “I did ask the nuns about giving up marriage for the celibate life and some wanted nothing of marriage at all. That was a reason they stayed, but there was also the idea of their marriage being to Christ, though I saw no one there was birthing those babies, at least in the physical sense.”

         I suggest, “Maybe that was metaphorical.”

         “Yes, but I heard no metaphors crying from cribs either.” 

(Continues tomorrow)


#56.12, Tues., May 28, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         The three generations of Ana’s – Ana, Hannah and granddaughter Ann — are back home now after a journey to the Waldelenas castle lands. They traveled by donkey cart to visit Will and Layla’s new baby. Ann comes running up the hill bubbling with news of her first ever journey away from home, and her first ever night in a different house and a different sleeping floor. There is pride to be had in this ten-year-old’s courage. Now Hannah and Ana come walking the weary donkey up the hill. I brush him down and put him to pasture before I come in for the update.

         The news is that new mother and baby are strong and healthy. I ask how is Will doing?

         Hannah offers the medical assessment. “We found no bruises on Layla or the baby.”

         Ana knows what I’m asking, “Will seems a proud and gentle new father. The added responsibility seems to give him purpose.”

         Little Ann chimes in, “When that papa at Layla’s came out to meet us he put our donkey up then went off to see the neighbors.”

         “So, he wasn’t there for your visit?”

         Ana answers, “No he was there. He came back with some neighbors he wanted to introduce to his mother-in-law and sister-in-law, and the baby’s cousin. One of the men told me to tell you he’s grateful to you for helping him break his field this first year. He said he recognized our donkey right off when we were turning onto the road.”

         Hannah added, “Will called us ‘his family’ when he introduced us.”

         “You are his family now, Hannah.” I mention, “That’s what marriage is all about.”

         “Ugh, I would think his family was probably a bunch of fat and lazy drunks.”

         “Isn’t a wedding supposed to be a celebration of families merging?” That and a spectacular earthly metaphor for love from which children are conceived. It’s probably God’s hope in gifting us with free choice that marriage brings strangers together into the one universal love.” Lecturing now, I seem to pretend I knew the ‘love your enemy’ thing all along. Thank you, God.

         Hannah brings me back to earth. “Will shared a keg of ale with the neighbors, then he slept outside so the women could sleep in the straw beds.”

(Continues tomorrow)

#56.11, Thurs., May 23, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         While Gaia and Brandell are off at Luxeuil the women’s weaving and stitching projects are nearly completed at the creek cottage. I’m spending these springtime days with Haberd and his little son, Sam, who is just learning the farm routine. Haberd actually needs my help. He and his wife have a huge harvest of winter grains, with the urgency of the winnowing, and cutting and binding the straw, along with the haying, all due at this time when we also need to turn the fields and plant the summer crop — not to mention putting in the garden. At these times I feel I can be more useful as a farm hand than an ancient sage. And being useful to my children and grandchildren is a beautiful kind of completeness. No other accolades are needed. Thank you, God.

         Now Hannah comes up for the donkey cart, as she and Ana are taking our eight-year-old granddaughter with them to see Layla and the new baby. Our oldest granddaughter, Ann, is so excited for this chance to see this youngest of our granddaughters. Ana is anxious to see that new family also and to be assured everyone is healthy. If Haberd didn’t need my help here I would gladly go along with them. I’m hoping all those women don’t just pretend away Will’s part in this family. It is so easy to let that awkward stranger seem useless. That would be harmful.

         As we fill the loft over the stalls where the only permanent residents are one mule and one donkey, I realize how much more is being asked of Haberd to always be prepared for all of Greg’s visiting horses and mules, and how little help he gets from his strong and able brothers off fulfilling their grand purposes – a soldier, a monk, and a poet. What is the value of a farmer in all of that? No wonder Haberd begs me to remind Greg to thank him for the use of the pastures.

         Yes, that reminds me, Dear God thank you for the use of your pastures and your gardens, your bugs and your beasts, your beautiful mornings, and golden evenings, your rains and rainbows, your breath and air and sky and water, flowing, quenching, thirsting, dreaming. May I always notice the ancestors you bring us in spirit joining with us in our times of laughing, loving, weeping, singing, I love you too. Amen.

(Continues, Tuesday, May 28, 2024)

#56.10, Weds., May 22, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         Mater Doe and Gaia had a lot to talk about and no secret gift-house was revealed. The elder priest seems to hear Gaia’s tender voice with the same finesse that allows her to hear the birds she shares bread with beyond the walls of this church. Brandell and Gaia went up at first light today because that is when Mater Doe can hear most clearly. So now they are home again, but the day is only half spent.

         At the first sound of their horses, Hannah and her mother, and Haberd’s wife and their daughter, Ann, all working together on sewing projects for gifting the new housekeeping, scurry around the creek cottage, hiding everything they are working on, as though Gaia would see these things and the surprises would be revealed. Brandell and Gaia came home too early.

         But Brandell is anxious to go to the monastery to deal with the old issues, in hopes he can be considered now as an artist.  Gabe says not to worry about the past because he hasn’t heard any complaints about any poets, and Brandell hasn’t even been around for two years to make trouble for them. Also, the elder scholar that chastised him, sending him off to the ends of the earth, is at rest now. Brandell is assured the old ban may not be a worry. But “may not be a worry” is a worry in itself and Brandell is as worried as he is anxious to make sure things are resolved here.

         Brandell also remembers Sister Colleen and some of those women from the convent who used to visit us when he was a child. He thinks Gaia will want to meet them too.  He knows that one thing Gaia misses about her work selling icons was the opportunity to listen and talk with other women of deep Christian faith. So Gaia and Brandell go for a longer stay as guests at Luxeuil.

         Gaia doesn’t realize she is being scurried off so Ana and these generations of women can make all the pretty things that fill a young woman’s imagination for having a house one day. And amid all this planning and preparation I’m wondering how it was for Layla, who just left in the night to wander off into the arms of the rude ruffian, Will.

         Dear God, Thank you for your watchful care for all of the brides and their husbands as they make their way into their own wildernesses of new family. Amen.

(Continues tomorrow)

#56.9, Tues., May 21, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         Haberd has the fields planted and seed grains are leftover. With so many of the castle fields new this year and other novice farmers wasting seed as Will had done at first, Haberd guesses he might find a market for his own leftover seed. That is a good excuse, anyway, for him to take a jaunt over there with the mule wagon. And a mule and a wagon make a proper way for Layla and Will and the new baby to get home. So, I’m not the only one finding excuses to help them out in the name of family.  It’s a good thing. Will can know the nature of family, now that he has one.

         Gaia wants to go back up to the little secular church where the wedding will be. That, of course, is very near where a particular surprise awaits her. Brandell is afraid Mater Doe will let the secret out, so he puts aside the chores Haberd has for him, postpones his plan for visiting Luxeuil and chooses to stay close to Gaia and guard the secret. Mater Doe might easily let it slip that they will soon be close neighbors together. 

He is also feeling anxious that he has to face up to the unfinished situation with the Church and he would like to put that off. 

It’s been many years now, since Father Columbanus left that community. Over time a lot has changed.  Here and everywhere the Benedictine Rule and the Celtic Rule have merged into one more standard rule for so many new monasteries rising up.

Gabe assures him the brother who was the Church Doctrine authority, who brought Brandell so much frustration, is now buried in the monk’s cemetery. So, no one will find the monastery deciding policy for hates according to the edicts of a Frankish king.

Apparently, all the issues that the Church authority found so disturbing are currently snoozing in silence and Brandell shouldn’t be worried.  As far as rumors of a living Lazarus circulating among the commoners, no one but our own family was out searching for this still living Lazarus when I went missing. The matter of my life and life again is not quaking the earth.

Of course, sometimes dead isn’t dead, even in the tangible earth of politics and power plays. There is always someone who remembers an old legend or a song, or someone who peeks out a little window in a church tower and notices the teachings of Jesus are still out there.

(Continues tomorrow)


#56.8, Thurs., May 16, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

Will talks of nothing but the great wonders of this son we all have yet to meet. But now in this sudden silence, Ana comes out and whispers to me, “it’s a girl.” Then a baby cries. Will pushes his way in and all of us follow.

         Here is Layla, tiny as she is in her husband’s huge arms, and in her arms, is this little red infant wrapped in the familiar wool blanket of this family.

         Maybe, in all my explaining a baby to him, warning him of the mother’s screams and the messiness, the howls and the slime, which he already knew from just noticing pigs and other critters, but I’d forgotten to mention that the baby would be a beautiful little human being. And now Will can’t stop looking and touching the tiny little hands. She opens her crinkly eye lids and sets her round-eyed gaze first on Layla and then on Will.

         “Her eyes are already opened!” Will exclaims, “and she is only a newborn. Already she looks at us! Look! She sees us! She is highly exceptional for a baby!”

         Layla says what we all notice, “She has your red hair, Will.”

         Ana suggests the baby might be hungry. Will gropes for the baby feeding jar he had in his hand when he came in.  And Ana assures him he needs to save that for later, when it is his turn to feed the baby.

         “Right now, Layla will do it.” Ana explains as the baby easily finds the nipple.

         Hannah issues orders, “Papa and Brandell, outside! Now!”

         Will tells Layla, “I guess we men have to leave.”

         Layla answers, “But not you, Will, you are the papa now.”  

         Outside now, Brandell is still nursing his swelling eye. “So, Papa, you spent a week planting his crops, gifting him the family baby things, and still it takes a baby to civilize him.”

         “With the help of God,” I can only hope. “We all know things won’t always be bliss. I only hope knowing he has family can offer them both useful options when they start to feel everything isn’t so perfect after all.”

         “Perfect?” questions Brandell. “What I know of perfect in art is to explore every possibility of imperfect and finally just say ‘it is good’ anyway, and take a rest.”

         “That seems to be the Creator’s standard of perfection. So why is it we imperfect human kinds imagine a perfection that is always out of reach?”

(Continues, Tuesday, May 21, 2024)

#56.7, Weds., May 15, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         The birth of the baby is eminent. So now, I’m heading back to the castle fields to get Will. It’s his own thoughtfulness now to bring along the baby blanket and the ceramic feeder. Of course, everything is already prepared by the women at the cottage so nothing is needed. Dear God, but thank you for Will’s new thoughts of caring for a child.

         Will is impatient with the donkey’s pace, and yet it is his own weight that slows the cart.  Now, while we are yet two miles away, he chooses get off the cart and run ahead.

         Brandell meets him in the doorway of the creek cottage and tells him to stay outside. As I arrive with the donkey cart, there is Will, with the little blanket and the ceramic spoon in one hand, panting, breathless, at the doorway with a slow rage burning at his wife’s brother who is blocking him from his most important ever, duty. Maybe Brandell deserved the black eye.

         But now Will is confronted with Gaia. He simply picks her up and sets her aside. Does anyone else understand he isn’t really a monster? He is a father. He is perfectly sober, and there is nothing that can stand between him and caring for his infant just now, except that the baby has yet to be born. 

         Ana invites him to Layla’s side. Even I’m surprised that he seems patient and tender now when it matters most. Thank you, God.

         In this moment of gentleness, he tells Layla that he has planted a field of oats for the baby and already there are little sprouts of green showing on the soil. He shows her the blanket and the little ceramic baby feeder and tells her everything is ready for the baby now. Layla is smiling, Will is wrapping his huge hand around both of her hands, and now she is screaming, and Will is helpless again.

         Hannah tells Will, “Papa will wait with you outside, now.” Hannah is skilled at ordering useless men outside at a time like this. And so, Will and I wait outside.  I call Brandell over, now holding a cold cloth on his eye.

         “Brandell, one day may you also understand the fears and frustrations of this moment.”

         Nearly civil now, Will adds, “Sorry about my quick fist, Little Fellow.”

         “Little fellow?” That’s how mammoth Will perceives us normal statured men? Maybe we still have a way to go in taming this monster.

(Continues tomorrow)

#56.6, Tues., May 14, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         I’m glad I came. God answered my casual prayer that I may love my enemy, Will, with this obligation to persist in unearthing his kindness.

         Dear God, may Layla and the baby find his huge hands gentle.

         I can, in a strange way of empathy, understand Layla’s dream for this man as a husband and a father for her children. I only hope he, too, can see that man in himself. Could anyone ever trust him with gentleness for the needs of an infant? That is yet to be learned.

         Today I return the empty donkey cart to the farm shed at home, and walk on to that little thatched house of secrets behind the church in the woods. Gaia has no idea there is a house for her. And now Ana and her daughters have brought all the things of home into this place. Brandell comes up every chance he gets, always imagining Gaia’s surprise when she follows the yarn that she herself strung through the wood to border the dancing space. And when her fingers lead her to this place where she will expect her guests to be waiting for her, instead, here will be a house, now with a proper table, and a bed and a bench.

         Here, Layla and I sit down to talk at this table about Layla’s own needs and plans. Hannah insists Layla stay here until the baby is born, which is the same expectation I left with Will. It is the safest way for this baby to be born in a proper house with two midwives right here. But now, I am starting to see the important part for including Will in this, and not simply thinking of him a distant fearsome monster. So, I think we need to take Layla to the creek cottage for this birth. We are not only keeping this house a secret from Gaia for a surprise, but also from Will in case it will be needed again for safety’s sake.

         What I am demanding of Will may be unfathomable, but I know with the help of God, it is possible. Yet Layla has to be prepared for his attempts at gentleness to fail.

         I told Layla not to wait for his angry fists, simply to leave if he gets drunk. She has a way to leave now, and we will come for her.

(Continues tomorrow)

#56.5, Thurs., May 9, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         When this donkey and I have helped a neighbor here plow a strip for planting, I ask a deep favor of this neighbor.

         “We have Will’s wife hidden away with her family because Will can have a cruel hand.”

         The neighbor has a knowing smirk. I guess Will has a reputation. 

         I ask, “If Will is raging and crazy with ale, could Layla and their baby find safety here, at least until she can make her way to the castle?”

         Of course, the neighbor is hesitant, knowing the danger.

         I explain, “Our family has a dove cote. She will have a bird to send home to us, and we will come immediately. Maybe Will won’t come here looking for her at all. He won’t expect her to have a place to come.

         The woman answers, “We can see her to the castle for safety if need be.”

         The man scolds her for speaking up and agreeing.

         “I will let Layla know she has trusted neighbors here.”

         When I return to Will’s home shelter he has a cooking fire ablaze, and has a spit with some kind of rodent meat cooking.  He is so proud to offer me a “feast in gratitude” for my help. Now, I hope he hears my simple thanks as magnanimously as it is spoken.

         Will and I sow the oat seed today and the edge that is left without enough of the oats, we plant the moldy barely seed, just in case it might yet germinate.

         He is looking through the family treasures in the cart, the cradle and the blanket … and what is this little jar?

         “That is a special thing just for a good father.  We needed that when Ana had the twins, because it allowed me to help with the feeding.  The midwives have these things to help give a baby drops of water or milk if the mother is too busy or tired or just needs help in feeding the baby.  I bunch up the blanket to be baby sized, and hold it in my arm, as though it were an infant, and show him how it would be used. He tries the baby hold with the blanket also.

         “See, Will, this blanket is really nothing like a baby, even though it is small and soft.  A baby will look at you, when you do this. The baby will trust you to be the full gentleness of a strong father. Practice the tender part while you wait for them to return.”

(Continues, Tuesday, May 14, 2024)