Ritagail’s posterous

Of course, I'm thankful for our sons, daughter-in-law, grandchildren.  I'd be ridiculous not to mention being thankful for our car, but I'm more thankful for relationships/friendships with our kids.  I hope they understand that.

I'm always thankful for Jesus.  If it weren't for Him, I don't know what I'd be like.  If it weren't for the stories, poetry, imagery in the Bible, I don't know how I could have gotten through this life.  So I'm thankful for writers, poets, artists, musicians who have embellished the stories through the centuries.

I find myself most grateful for a conversation with a fellow parishioner earlier this week.  She was thanking me for doing the parish bulletin, letting me know that she sometimes uses the leftover ones in her religion class, particularly the ones with special covers.  I usually don't get to do the special covers, but I make sure to choose and order some from the ones available by our printers' art department.  I'm grateful for the two I was allowed to do this year, just putting whatever parish politics are involved aside, and being grateful that I can use the gifts God gave me.

Fifteen years ago, I left seminary (non-Catholic) completely disillusioned, completely bewildered about how to use my writing and art for God, how to fulfill that call within my soul that just won't go away.  Fifteen years ago next Spring, I was told at yet another graduate school that the art and religion depts. could not work together so that I could finish some kind of Master's with those two disciplines.  Fifteen years ago next Easter, I became Catholic, only to find in the past few years that I walked into somebody else's liturgical/ideological war.

But, through it all, there remains that Call that I cannot ignore.  Along with the call to love.  And here, in the midst of the struggle, God sends someone into my life to thank me, which lets me know I AM answering that call on my soul, even though some days it just seems completely useless. 

For that, I am incredibly grateful.

What is the Call upon your soul?  Are you working at it, or, have the cares of this world, this society's definition of "success" caused you to drop your calling?

Sometimes tiny steps forward meld into leaps of faith.

So, ok, I could just hop into the car and go drive myself up into the hills......except I'm still a bit scared to drive by myself which I know is an irrational fear.

I COULD do that......I betchamyself I could drive up into the hills before noon hour then come back before rush hour.

But, I don't.  There's something Responsible that I should probably do, and I could turn it into a bike ride, which of course is keeping my overweight from becoming outofcontroloverweight.

So, I get on my bicycle, go down to the parish office, take care of the little Responsible thing.......to find our Dear Receptionist crossing out something in next weekend's bulletin.

Now, it doesn't matter Who, What, or Where, but, there was a mistake in the bulletin, and, the best way to handle it is to cross it out.

So I offer to help.  Only problem is, any ink pen or marker shows through the Beautiful Cover provided by our printer's Art Dept.  Sooooooo............our Dear Brilliant Receptionist (hiya) comes up with using a black crayon--it sufficiently blanks out the line and doesn't show through on the cover.

Only further problem is, my crayon goes blunt and it looks like a kid has been marking in the bulletins. 

Wonderful!!!

I finally get to mutilate the darned things--"legally"!

Well, we got that done.  Of course,  we know there's going to be some complaints......told the ladies in the office to tell anyone who complains that Ritagail finally lost it.............

So, that being done, I decide to go for a bike ride, but not as long as I wanted to, and in a different direction.  My bike's been a tad testy, and I finally find that the back tire is grazing the inside of the frame.

Sooooo......I stop at a gas station, take the few items in my basket out, turn my bike upside down and the durned basket falls off.....oh wellllll.........get it out of the way........get my bone wrench out, reset the back tire.........okeydokeysofarey.................

That's when I decide, that, as I'm here by the air hose anyway, I'll go ahead and put a bit more air in that back tire. 

Wellllll.....the hose doesn't seem to be working.  Hmmmmmmm.......

Finally try it with my finger.....nothin'........

THAT'S when I realize that the air hose is one of those where a person has to put in 75 cents or more to get air..............

phooey.

Soooooo.......I get out my little portable air pump and mash in air as much as possible. 

Okeydokeyfenokeysofarey.

Put the basket back on (front).

Finicky thing.  Make sure it's not in the way of the cables.

There.

Falls off.

Not goin' back on.

Turn it around.

Can you believe this whole time not one person has asked me if I need any help?????  Maybe they're filming me and they're gonna make some money........I always seem to be a blessing to others.......

Pop!  Hey, it works that way.

Okedokeyminiwaukenfenokey..........put my stuff in, and, here we go.........

So I rode into what had been a North wind and was now a West wind...........rode back with the wind blowing me home, and, coasting leaving me time to muse,  thought to myself:

I shoulda just skipped Responsibility and Exercise and Fear and just hopped into Manasseh (our car, yes, I named it, yes, I talk to it) and drove up into the hills!!!

For those of us in denominations that follow a liturgical calendar, today was Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday of the liturgical year.

Our pastor allowed me to do the cover for Christ the King (see the photo in this post).  As far as I know, our parish doesn't have an image of Jesus as King, but, there is a wonderful painting of the Resurrected Jesus in our chapel mural......you have to look way up.....cranked my old neck up to take the photo.  There are a few other images thrown in there, the Holy Spirit dove, the Sacred Heart, the Lamb (over the crosses on Calvary).  I had more images, but, my beloved husband told me it was too busy, took away from the central Jesus figure, so I listened to him and took the others out, simplifying it.

It's amazing how many folks who have gone to this church for so many years don't even recognize the image.

I could write a whole essay about that, but won't.

Yesterday evening, at Mass, I was painfully reminded of some of my personal differences that cause me to be one of the underclass in this society, one of the invisibles of Christianity (sometimes even one of the undesirables in Christianity).  I write about it here both for others who may be similar to me, as well as for the education of the reigning neurotypicals:

We had a visiting priest.  I don't know if it was his way of doing things, or if it was a glitch in our sound system, but, the end result was that his voice was too loud for my nervous system.  I forgot to bring my earplugs, and that is my fault, however, during the homily, as he was taking turns at raising his voice, I had to leave to our Gathering Area.  I should have left sooner.  (My husband doubts the ear plugs would have helped much.)

By forcing myself to go back in for the rest of Mass, I had to fight back the urge to beat my fists against my head, and do other things my body wants to do when its nerves are overstressed.  As it was, I ended up shaking my hands and weaving my body back and forth until it could calm down enough.  I had to put my sketch away, there was no way I could handle a pencil.  By the end of Mass, I was sick to my stomach and my spine was a wreck.

There was only one other adult who sat out during the homily, and I'm not sure it was because of the volume.  The rest of the congregants either weren't bothered or forced themselves to stay in an uncomfortable situation.  My husband had a headache.

In the past week, I've had 2 different people say something to me about not eating with others.  It's a problem for many that I don't attend parties/gatherings/eating, etc.  For the most part, I don't simply because the noise of such gatherings is too much for my nervous system (also because I'm no good at chitchat, but, I think the sound is #1 problem).  I've tried wearing earplugs, but people get grossed out when I take them in and out.  When I was younger, evidently I just spaced out/zoned out/daydreamed my way through.  Or left as soon as I was finished eating and went somewhere to be by myself.....not realizing I was naturally trying to let my body recover......but, of course, society/church is getting more and more suspicious of "loners".

The sadness that I feel over not being able to participate is nearly as strong as the pain I feel when people insinuate I don't do things with them because I don't like them--or when they actually say that to my face, joking or not.

To tell you the truth, at this time in my life, no, I really DON'T like the way most of you are being and, knowing I've tried my hardest to be able to be a part of your group(s), right now, there's a growing part of me that doesn't want to belong.

On the flip side, most adult members of the autistic spectrum don't think I'm on the spectrum because I have too much sensitivity, because I believe in still trying to attend church and other human gatherings. 

Thus, I find myself once again not belonging anywhere.

Except to the Risen Jesus Christ, the Invisible One painted in Glory in the chapel, the One to Whom I lift my eyes, crane up my rickety old neck, painted by Pat "Kemoha" Patterson.

And so,
I followed God,
Tried to, near as any Human
Grounded
On this Earth
Can follow Spirit.
Feeble, sometimes going
sdrawkcab,
Painstakingly, life was built
Around Beauty and Love
Weaving in barbs and thorns
With the deep cuts of devastation
Carving character.
And there it was:  Life.
Until some fellow Humans,
Why, I don't know,
Flattened it all with one
Axe swing of human society:
The Greater Good.
Standing there,
Bewildered,
Shocked,
Lost--
The Spirit moved and beckoned me
Away.
'WHY?"
I accused, unmoving.
"You are God--WHY?"
And that blasted Spirit whispered some
rot about it not
Being God who destroyed,
But, Humanity-made-by-God--
And, therein must God forgive.
"Follow me",
Again the Spirit beckoned,
Whispering of rebuilding.
"You build it!"  I snarled,
And sat.
For years.
One day, that old Spirit breathed round
Again--
"I finished it for you.  Enter."
God!
It's
Beautiful!!

rgcb 2009

Yes, I drove Manasseh (our car) into the Osage Hills, where we joyfully traipsed through oak leaves, in between boulders, found the old rusted out (nearly gone) truck skeletons...and just breathed!  (Some of you may have forgotten, my husband can't drive due to his visual challenges, so, the dear man must put up with his wife's slow and cautious driving style.)

Remember my characters from the "Poet's Journey's"?  I used Bendaroos to make some 3D of them.  (The pink piece of star character is a tiny piece of rose quartz.)  I'm currently working on a new journey, different than the others, but with the same base characters. 

In one of the pictures, you will see the leaf hopper (that's what I call it) got into the act...I didn't know this until I got home and looked at my photos--it had flown up to say "Hi" to me while I was snapping the shutter at different angles, so I took it's portrait.

It was my hubby's idea to take photos of the bagworm on top of the rusty truck skeleton.  What a fantastic abstract it provided!!

****************************************

poem about 31 years of marriage

This Love
That has snuck up on
Me--
From Whence has it come?
'Tis stronger than our first,
Forged in the fires
Of near ruin
And poverty
And rejection by society,
Betrayal by religion--
NOT by God--
And here you are teasing me
About losing the path
In the woods,
Eating my homemade
Pumpkin pie,
Sitting in the car while
Waiting
For your foolish wife
Who is lying down
On the autumn ground
Taking a photo up through the air
Of an autumn blazed oak
Against Heaven's Blue Promise.
This Love,
This tender companionship
In the autumn of our lives,
That has snuck up on me--
From whence did it come?
Ah!  Holy Mystery!!

rgcb

Remember the holiday movie "It's a Wonderful Life" with Jimmy Stewart?  That's the old movie where Jimmy Stewart plays George Bailey, the good guy who never gets to go anywhere.  The big bad banker in town makes George's life so miserable that George wants to jump from a bridge--suicide--and then an inempt angel named Clarence shows up to help George out.  George ends up seeing what life would be like in the world without him, decides he wants to live, and, if I remember correctly, when George comes into the house where the bank examiner is, says with a big smile:  "I'm goin' to jail--Isn't it Wonderful?".  

I went through a time when I liked this movie, then, I went through a time where I hated it, couldn't bear to be within earshot of it.  I won't go through the long litany of heartbreaks, failures, bitter dissapointments, etc., it suffices to say life has been hard, as it is for many.

Yesterday, our older son, our daughter-in-law, our granddaughter, and our grandson visited.  They also brought us an older but good used car....which I can't drive yet due to a tangle in paperwork...so it is sitting pretty in our driveway. 

More waiting over something which I have very little control.

Usually, this would throw me into a tizzy, and it did a bit after the kids left, but oh! those precious memories of the day, and while many memories are something I WILL write in a private journal, two stand out more than any: 

1)  Our granddaughter sitting in a room by herself working with clay, and, when I asked her if she wanted me to stay with her, she said "yes"....so we made clay pumpkins with faces like jack o'lanterns.

2)  As they were getting ready to leave, I called out if they wanted me to send the rest of the cookies I'd baked home with them, I heard at least one "yes", and, as I was packing them into a bag, our little grandson found me, looked up at me and said with a bit of a question, and a bit of demand, "Cookie...".   So we asked Mom if he could have one or half of one, and, when she agreed to half of one, there was the little guy's big face running off with his prize from this middle-aged granny.

Now I have to go back to Real Life:  Did you know there is a car in your driveway that you can't drive yet?  Do you realize you are nearly 50 and have no financial or social status and that your student loans that you racked up while trying to "follow God's Will" are going to follow you to your grave?  Do you know the Christianity you have sought to be a part of all your life is quickly "going to Hell in a handbasket?"  Do you realize.....Do you know.......

Yeah.  I know. 

Isn't it Wonderful?

Somewhere, a bell rings.

'Attaboy Clarence"

Unfortunately, God loves us all, and, has gotten me to reading St. Teresa of Jesus Interior Castle.  One of the points she stresses is not being afraid to find our own path, to walk in it.

Instead of my path being a fiery evangelist who tells everyone what Real Christianity Is, it would seem that my path is more about God's Love, God's Beauty, God's Poetry, etc.

In respect of that, here are some of my older sketches that I found in a cupboard yesterday while looking for something else......which I never found.......

However, knowing that many of this weekend's bulletins will end up in the garbage, I'm suggesting those of you who live in the area keep this cover.  It's my work this time.  Usually, special covers are the work of the wonderful art department at Trinity Publications, and I can choose not to order any of theirs, or order from their choices.  (I also suggest you hang on to theirs.)  This time, our pastor asked for a special cover for Our Lady of the Rosary, and I asked if I could do it.  He told me to go ahead. 

I took photos around our church, then used what software is available to me (not PhotoShop), to make the cover.  I enjoyed it, but didn't know how it would print.  It looks fine.  In fact, it looks more than fine, even Miss OverSelfCritical here can see that.

However, now I'm in a quandary...I didn't "self-promote" ahead of time, and, it seems a few are interested in it after they find out it's "mine". 

And, on top of that, many many of my former Protestant church members, as well as several of my relatives would be quick to tell me I'm on my way to Hell or at the very least annihilation for bringing attention to Mother Mary.  (God's really having fun with me, I am not "Marian", but lookie who was the subject matter for Beauty.)

So, my suggestion is, hang on to it--it might be worth something after I'm dead and flamin'!

;0)

For those of you not in the area, I'm attempting to attach an image of the cover.