So, Sunday night I was looking for a recipe I had written on a “scrap” of paper. That’s pretty much how I organize recipes, write it down on whatever is nearby and stuff it in the recipe box. It was a marinade for flank steak. I’ve made it at least 10 times in the past year, you wouldn’t even think I needed the recipe. Finally, it appeared and for the first time (at least that I can remember) I read the words on the paper. My “scrap” paper. It was a portion of this poem by Anna McKenzie, from the book Good Friday People by Sheila Cassidy.
And so we must learn to live again,
we of the damaged bodies
and assaulted minds.
Starting from scratch with the rubble of our lives
and picking up the dust of dreams once dreamt.
And we start there, naked in our vulnerability,
proud of starting over, fighting back,
but full of weak humility
at the awesomeness of the task.
We, without a future,
safe, defined, delivered
now salute you God.
Knowing that nothing is safe,
secure, inviolable here.
Except you,
and even that eludes our minds at times.
And we hate you
and we love you,
and our anger is as strong
as our pain,
our grief is deep as oceans,
and our need as great as mountains.
So, as we take our first steps forward
into the abyss of the future,
we would pray for
courage to go places for the first time
and just be there.
Courage to become what we have
not been before
and accept it,
with bravery to look deep
within our souls to find
new ways.
We did not want it easy God,
but we did not contemplate
that it would be quite this hard,
this long, this lonely.
So, if we are to be turned inside out,
and upside down,
with even our pockets shaken,
just to check what is rattling
and left behind,
we pray that you will keep faith with us,
and we with you,
holding our hands as we weep,
giving us strength to continue,
and showing us beacons
along the way
to becoming new.
We are not fighting you God,
even if it feels like it,
but we need your help and company,
as we struggle on.
Fighting back
and starting over.
And I stopped, stunned, in the middle of my kitchen. And laughed. Life has not been easy these days. Church born, church died. Almost 18 years of married life, with its ups and downs, confounding me. Three kids and a hectic life in NYC have left me with a faith that often seems a shell of what it once was.  I spent Sunday night in church, with my emotions so close to the surface I had to will myself to not just sit and weep. Loudly.  And so I laughed. Laughed that I wrote a recipe for a flank steak marinade on such a profound poem. Laughed that on this night  I found it. Laughed because there are days when I wonder if God is still around or still cares. And tonight, He showed me some love. Reminded me that I am not alone. I think I may frame this recipe and display it proudly. And hope that God laughs with me.
Stephanie Witt
This is exactly what I needed to hear today. I can so relate & it’s nice to know I’m not the only one feeling this way.
I love this. I can’t even find the words to say how much I love it. Fighting back and struggling on with you.
Wow. Just what I needed to read. Thank you.