A Story Can Change Your Life
Pretty much all I’ve got this morning are questions.
Why do I like this poem so much? I don’t know, except perhaps, just now, the darker mysteries seem more transparent, or at least available, than the higher ones. What moves me about these lines? Still don’t know, except that just now I’m not sure I can bear a miracle that needs explaining but would be glad to receive a sign of what’s next, of what I should do, of what is even possible. Why, for that matter, is this a poem, as it feels as much like prose as poetry? Perhaps it’s the line breaks, or the imagery, or the lack of resolution, or the silent invitation. I just don’t know.
No answers, this morning, to this or a hundred other more important questions. But somewhere, amid all this, still a sense of gratitude for those I love and who love me. And hope.
I pray you have at least the same.
A Story Can Change Your Life
On the morning she became a young widow,
my grandmother, startled by a sudden shadow,
looked up from her work to see a hawk turn
her prized rooster into a cloud of feathers.
That same moment, halfway around the world
in a Minnesota mine, her husband died,
buried under a ton of rock-fall.
She told me this story sixty years ago.
I don’t know if it’s true but it ought to be.
She was a hard old woman, and though she knelt
on Sundays when the acolyte’s silver bell
announced the moment of Christ’s miracle,
it was the darker mysteries she lived by:
shiver-cry of an owl, black dog by the roadside,
a tapping at the door and nobody there.
The moral of the story was plain enough:
miracles become a burden and require a priest
to explain them. With signs, you only need
to keep your wits about you and place your trust
in a shadow world that lets you know hard luck
and grief are coming your way. And for that
—so the story goes—any day will do.
Peter Everwine, from Listening Long and Late
Note: Thanks to The Writer’s Almanac, a regular source of inspiration, where this poem was featured, fortuitously, today!
Ahhh, David, thank you for your message today. As always, I find resonance in them. It seems to me that you are on a similar journey as I, lots more questions and not too many answers, or at least not the energy to come up with adequate answers. Perhaps, this is a time for learning about patience in both of our lives, and a time to remember with gratitude, that “With God, all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26) On these words, I cling to the hope and promise of answers from our loving God. You are in my prayers and I am ever so grateful for your generosity in the sharing of your wisdom and faith. You are, my friend, my “go-to guy.”