poem

i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
-i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)

- e. e. cummings

Job Hunt Musings

I am embroiled in this job hunt. I hate it. It hangs over me like a great weight. I can't seem to accomplish anything, whether I spend many hours or none at all. Today I've been musing on a few reasons why God might be letting me have these months of job hunting instead of

Some of it is the usual character-building stuff.... teaching me patience, etc. But there are a few others

• I didn't have to manage a job while I was doing my gluten challenge. That would have been a miserable and difficult additional challenge
• I'm getting time to learn to cook and bake better gluten free food - or rather, *excellent* gluten free food! (I talk about that here)
• I get to work out with A when he gets home from work. 

Aside from these, though, I have a lot of turmoil on this topic. I can't just lighten up and get things done because I feel like I have a huge cloud hanging over me. But that doesn't mean I accomplish anything useful. It just means I feel frozen most of the time. 

Dear job, please come soon. 

an original work.

there once were two children
called alice and alec
who sped hither and thither
nonstop wreaking havoc.
thus causing their mother
quite filled with chagrin
to be constantly moaning
"alice and alec!"

You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy

Suspended
Denise Levertov

I had grasped God's garment in the void
but my hand slipped
on the rich silk of it.
The 'everlasting arms' my sister loved to remember
must have upheld my leaden weight
from falling, even so,
for though I claw at empty air and feel
nothing, no embrace,
I have not plummeted.