Poem About Morning

Whether it’s sunny or not, it’s sure
To be enormously complex–
Trees or streets outdoors, indoors whoever you share,
And yourself, thirsty, hungry, washing,
An attitude towards sex.
No wonder half of you wants to stay
With your head dark and wishing
Rather than take it all on again:
Weren’t you duped yesterday?
Things are not orderly here, no matter what they say.

But the clock goes off, if you have a dog
It wags, if you get up now you’ll be less
Late. Life is some kind of loathsome hag
Who is forever threatening to turn beautiful.
Now she gives you a quick toothpaste kiss
And puts a glass of cold cranberry juice,
Like a big fake garnet, in your hand.
Cranberry juice! You’re luck, on the whole,
But there is a great deal about it you don’t understand.

–William Meredith

Welcome Morning

There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,

in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry “hello there, Anne”
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.

All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard,
dies young.

–Anne Sexton

Capon on The Great Heartburn

That much done, however–having provided baking soda for your solace and soup for your sustenance, I press on to the last consideration of all: the higher distress for which earth has no cure–that major, vaster burning by which the heart looks out astonished at the world and, in its loving, wakes and breaks at once.

For all its greatness (trust me–I am the last man on earth to sell it short), the created order cries out for further greatness still. The most splendid dinner, the most exquisite food, the most gratifying company, Continue reading “Capon on The Great Heartburn”

On Jayber Crow and Keeping Faith

Ultimately, then, Jayber does not keep faith with a place strictly speaking, but with a way of life embedded in a place. And so his loyalty is not transferrable to any party which happens to live in the geographic location once called Port William. Rather, his loyalty is to the way of life that the old Port William allowed to grow and thrive, that shaped people for generations, people whose loves and affections were molded to the life of that small place. Thus there is, in this call to keep faith with Port William, a call to resist those who would threaten it. If those devoted to the old ways of Christendom are to be of any use to the thing they wish to keep faith with, their churches and the commonwealth generally speaking, then they must come to understand this close relationship between fidelity and resistance.

Jake Meador


Excerpts from Making All Things New

6.     Inner Chaos
To bring some solitude into our lives is one of the most necessary but also most difficult disciplines. Even though we may have a deep desire for real solitude, we also experience a certain apprehension as we approach that solitary place and time. As soon as we are alone, without people to talk with, books to read, TV to watch, or phone calls to make, an inner chaos opens up in us.This chaos can be so disturbing and so confusing that we can hardly wait to get busy again. Entering a private room and shutting the door, therefore, does not mean that we immediately shut out all our inner doubts, anxieties, fears, bad memories, unresolved conflicts, angry feelings, and impulsive desires. On the contrary, when we have removed our outer distractions, Continue reading “Excerpts from Making All Things New