Dear Hearts,
Today, a little spider brought my desire for healing and helpfulness into shimmering clarity.
Jesus said,
healing that is of Him (Holy Spirit) always works. acim 7 VI .44
…Love is incapable of any exceptions… acim 7 VI .45 (even spiders?)
The whole glory and perfect joy that is the Kingdom lies in you to give.
He probes, do you not want to give it? acim 7 VI .50
My heart leaps with wanting to give, to be the extension of joy and life. But mind retorts cynically pointing to impossible diseases, death, and depression. I see how human beings lean toward selfishness, and individualism. We love God but we lust for something else. We want healing but we are weak in our woundedness. We dream we are powerless to change, much less change the world. And then there is that dark voice….it is not sure change is in our individual best interest.
Who can help? Who can make the tide shift? The gifts of the healer seems to be infinitesimal against the enormity of need. And yet the Words of Jesus make me wonder. He gives me to believe I can make a difference. I am needed in the salvation of the world.
If I can heal and forgive myself, the belief I can heal others is strengthened. Today that strength may be only enough for a tiny bug. But then, love must begin somewhere, and no exceptions means, loving everything I see, right here, right now, including myself. I hope you enjoy Mommy Long Legs, and find your own feelings on healings, crawling into awareness.
Always Great Love,
marybeth
Mommy Long Legs August 3, 2018
I just saved a spider!
One of those Daddy Long Legs.
When I was a kid
I watched my brother
and our friends
pull their legs off;
witnessed the body
of the creature
vibrating,
humping the asphalt,
left to die,
helpless on the drive,
as we moved on
to Stick Ball or Kick the Can
or Man in the Middle.
I am having a hard time
swallowing.
My thighs are
prickling.
A guilty thought
arises,
I may have been only
a spectator,
but then. somehow,
I joined in,
silent witness,
curious voyeur,
I could not be
spoiler of their fun,
a bug’s hero,
brave.
But I hate spiders,
or I used to as a kid,
and I still would
kill one in my bed.
Once I got bit
in the eye.
My mother thought
it was a sty
that blew up
a hundred times the size,
like a golf ball,
swelling shut for days.
This spider, right now,
all fuzzy brown,
is hard to see
on my wood floor.
But I am keen and sure
it is a Daddy Long Legs,
except I feel her more like
Mommy Long Legs.
(Generally I am inclined to
use the pronoun him for
things that make me anxious.
Guess that says something
about my relationship
with men.)
Carefully I approach Mommy,
ready to whisk her up,
to contain her
in my plastic cup.
She does not run.
I am not prepared for this,
battle-ready
to capture what I imagine
will require the zip of
Speedy-Gonzalez-ness.
I lift her in and up,
given time to examine
her core,
her spindly knees,
and wooly belly;
to my horror I see
she is missing a leg,
I count,
one,
two?
I shiver,
No please.
Not three!
The prickles have morphed
into a swell of sorrow,
sweeping remorse,
and a rise of desire
that wants to help,
to heal her!
Suddenly she is friend.
Suddenly I recognize God
in a little puff of a life.
She is important to me,
and must be to us all.
But I don’t know how.
I can’t really think about
the relevance of
spider’s Spirit now.
Gently I carry her outside.
I want to look closely
at her body,
I m’ also compelled
to turn away.
I am not entirely comfortable
with her spidery-ness.
An yet, I feel compassion,
in a creepy-crawly way.
Placing her on the slate steps
I say,
here you go.
You will be fine here,
though I ‘m not so sure.
I leave with an ache,
and a little prayer,
Father what can I do
to serve this life?
I want Mommy Long Legs
to live.
I remember then,
something I read
about the conditions
Jesus practiced
when someone asked Him
to be cured:
- He asked them.
Do you have faith?
- He asked God,
Father can we have it?
- He emphasized,
Because I want it.
What a rapport
He had with Grandpoppi.
He knew
He was Son.
He knew,
Grandpoppi could not
hold back from Son-poppi
even a tiny weeny
bit of Love.
Because Poppi
was Love Itself,
and healing is
Love inspired.
And mostly because
what Jesus desires
is the Will of God.
I have a rapport with
with Jesus.
I have a desire to heal
God’s creature.
I want it because I
recognize
I am healing
myself,
my fears,
my past.
I want the end of guilt
and suffering,
I want to have
a faith that says
spiders don’t need
eight legs.
God can make do
with 5.
I hear myself pray,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry
for the ignorance
and smallness that
would not speak
for a spider or a man.
I’m sorry Daddy/ Mommy
Legless.
Forty five minutes
have passed with this writing.
My brain has been flashing,
Go look, go see.
I want to slip outside
and know if Mommy died
where I left her,
or maybe she walked free.
Fear says, don’t look.
Your heart will break,
your faith a mistake.
She is dead.
Your Jesus, your love
and the call to
heal her, healer
is just more spiritual
schma-ghay-gee.
But, I am a scientist.
and a mystic,
To this world
I am crazy,
unfit for its logic.
I open the door
and look, everywhere!
Mommy isn’t there
Mommy is no where
in sight.
This is enough for me
to sleep tonight.