Sunday, September 02, 2012

And all changes

Small picture of my gold chair and Cleo.
Now that it is over, 
it is a relief to be out of that apartment. 
It was not always an easy place to live and 
I am glad for what is my new future home.
Yet it was chosen and given as
the place where love would grow...
Gone with it is my gold chair.
It was my Dad's chair, 
we have a picture of him 
holding us kids when we were infants
in it.
Cleo is doing well;
she is tended by a good cat sitter down South
who emailed reassurances to us.
Orthoman is here.
I am so happy he is here.
I am really excited to marry him.
I can't imagine leaving my church.
7 years now.
So many life changing events there.
Leaving my spiritual father
my father confessor
my gentle father
is unfathomable. 
I trust God.
I am so thankful for monasteries.
We go to the Greek one
God willing tomorrow. 
I had a wonderful weekend visit
with my sister-friend.
I am physically exhausted.
My throat hurts.
The move day was hard.
There was no one to help me;
one friend got sick;
I did not get to my other friends house till after midnight.
My church is going to do evening teaching 
on the church again this fall.
These were my favourite.
I can't even begin to describe how special those evenings 
are to me; how I would feel like a girl in my 
father's house,
how the light inside the church would enfold and comfort us.
How it felt like a warm safe refuge from a rough and confusing world.
How the Icons are, what it sounds like,
the vividness of remembering specific prayer services;
Akathists, molebens, teachings, vespers, lityas.
The gold wood floor,
the progression of my churches iconography
and the deepening of beauty.
The choir's strength and song.
Remembering those early years and how we would all
wait in line for confession;
watching younger kids go to confession and 
how loving it all was and is.
I weep and I cry but I am at the same time
comforted by the memory of the early mornings in my new home
that I am making with my Orthoman;
how that kitchen is a refuge with the icons and the lampada to St. George
lit bright and beautifully shining
and my icons to St. Seraphim and St. Katherine. 
I do not know why or how I ever deserved the man I am marrying. 
He is truly the perfect fit for me and 
I can't tell you how wonderful;
it is not describable; 
I am not talking about perfection
but about God's mercy and the paradise of new beginnings.
It is possible to be calm
in deep grief
and yet so much in the beginnings of being in love
and wanting to learn to love
one's beloved.
I can't wait to be with my beloved.
And to be at liturgy with my church and my beloved
is a deep blessing.
The last thing my Grandfather John ever said to me
is that 
prayer is the best thing.


Matushka Anna said...

Tearing up...

E Helena E said...

I am infinitely grateful for these past five years plus (for me), for being a small part of this beautiful progression in your life and part of the Church. I read your post with joy and tears also.

Donna Witek said...

Isn't it amazing how God *always* knows what (or in both our cases, who) we need better than we ever could? :) My heart is filled with sympathetic joy for you--sympathetic in the sense that I know exactly what it is to finally be given the man who is my "perfect fit" after many years of waiting. God bless you and your husband-to-be, this week and always, dear friend.