She doesn't ask much of me...

My wife doesn't ask much of me: maybe she's learned that being married with a clergy person means being very clear about what she needs vs. what she might like because she doesn't like to make life harder. (HINT: sometimes church folk don't get the needs/wants thing!) But she does - and I am grateful. It could be that we've been through enough rough times together - dealing with our individual shit as well as married issues - so that she really doesn't like to waste either of our time. And it could be both of these plus the fact that she is a totally sweet and wise woman.

So, when she DOES ask for something, I've learned to pay attention. That didn't come naturally or easily for me, but listening to her is part of my mature spiritual discipline (most of the time.) And this weekend she asked if I might go with her tomorrow to visit an old friend/ flame whose mother has been cursed with Alzheimer's. It is really just a journey of mercy because there is nothing we are going to change or fix. Just sit and listen and be there for a few hours - and listen - and maybe shed some tears along with some laughter. (That's what most of ministry is, yes? Showing up and being present?)

So, even though I've been sick for the last two weeks and have LOTS of church work to catch up on, I changed my schedule and we'll head out tomorrow (before the snow) to sit and visit and listen. Later, maybe we will reflect and pray and enjoy one another's company on the ride home. This song always reminds me of my wife... and I've probably never told her. Tomorrow I will.

St. Scott Cairns, the poet, put it like this:

If you have ever owned
a tortoise, you already know
how terribly difficult
paper training can be
for some pets.

Even if you get so far
as to instill in your tortoise
the value of achieving the paper,
there remains one obstacle -
your tortoise's intrinsic sloth.

Even a well-intentioned tortoise
may find himself, in his journeys,
to be painfully far from the mark.

Failing, your tortoise may shy away
for weeks within his shell, utterly
ashamed, or looking up with tiny,
wet eyes might offer an honest shrug.
Forgive him.