The Morning After

 

A lily shivered
at His passing,
supposing Him to be
the Gardener.
~Margaret D. Smith “Easter morning, yesterday”
from A Widening Light -Poems of the Incarnation

 

 

Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord.
John 21:12

 

It is too easy to let go of Easter — to slide back into the Monday routine, managing our best to survive each day, teeth gritted, as we have before.

We are so blind, thinking Him the Gardener as He passes by; we just don’t pay attention to Who is right before us, tending us.

God knows this about us.  So He meets us for breakfast today and every day and feeds us, a tangible and meaningful act of nourishing us in our most basic human needs though we’ve done nothing to deserve the gift. He cooks up fish on a beach at dawn and invites us to join Him though we have done nothing to deserve it.

The night before he shared a meal and broke bread in Emmaus to open the eyes and hearts of the blinded.

This is no mere Gardener.

When He offers me a meal,  I accept it with open eyes of gratitude, knowing the gift He hands me is nothing less than Himself.

 

 

…be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world, even though you have done nothing to deserve it.
Paul Harding in Tinkers

 

Ode to Oatmeal

oatmeal

I eat oatmeal for breakfast.
I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it.
I eat it alone.
I am aware it is not good to eat oatmeal alone.
Its consistency is such that is better for your mental health
if somebody eats it with you.
That is why I often think up an imaginary companion to have
breakfast with.
Possibly it is even worse to eat oatmeal with an imaginary
companion.
Nevertheless, yesterday morning, I ate my oatmeal porridge,
as he called it with John Keats.
Keats said I was absolutely right to invite him:
due to its glutinous texture, gluey lumpishness, hint of slime,
and unusual willingness to disintegrate, oatmeal should
not be eaten alone…
~Galway Kinnell from “Oatmeal”

aprilnorth2

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
~John Keats from “Ode on Melancholy”

cloudmountain6

Oatmeal porridge and melancholy,
poets and peonies —
it is so early, so Monday morning…
nothing more need be said.

peonyrain

Just So You Know, You Are Forgiven

silverplums

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
~William Carlos Williams “This is Just to Say”

Who needs an icebox
when the plums
hang heavy
in the night-cooled orchard

dotted with dew
glistening
in the spare pink light
of dawn

so ripe
and so ready
their golden flesh
warming in the sun.
~EPG

plumrain

Ready to Listen

 

Photo by Nate Gibson
Photo by Nate Gibson

Every morning I sit across from you
at the same small table,
the sun all over the breakfast things—
curve of a blue-and-white pitcher,
a dish of berries—
me in a sweatshirt or robe,
you invisible.

Most days, we are suspended
over a deep pool of silence.
I stare straight through you
or look out the window at the garden,
the powerful sky,
a cloud passing behind a tree.

There is no need to pass the toast,
the pot of jam,
or pour you a cup of tea,
and I can hide behind the paper,
rotate in its drum of calamitous news.

But some days I may notice
a little door swinging open
in the morning air,
and maybe the tea leaves
of some dream will be stuck
to the china slope of the hour—

then I will lean forward,
elbows on the table,
with something to tell you,
and you will look up, as always,
your spoon dripping milk, ready to listen.
~Billy Collins “A Portrait of the Reader With a Bowl of Cereal”

 

image

Lenten Reflection–Time to Eat

Christ Appears on the Shore by James Tissot


Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord.
John 21:12

There are fewer more nurturing words than “time to eat.” Having someone care enough to cook a meal to feed body and soul is welcome indeed. So “come and have breakfast” after a long night of fishing must have been an irresistible invitation.

After Resurrection Day, Jesus appears to His followers on several occasions, but He is not always initially recognizable. The trigger for discerning who He is seems connected to sharing a meal.

This makes entire sense after His Last Supper with the disciples before His death. He makes it clear how He wants to be remembered, through a symbolic meal of bread and wine. So when He returns, when He breaks bread, cooks fish, and eats together with others, they recognize they are in the presence of the Lord.

In this instance, when the disciples have had a night of no success catching fish, He directs them to drop their nets yet again and suddenly there are more fish than they can handle. This is capped by His invitation: “Come and have breakfast”.

He then feeds them, both figuratively and literally.

Accepting the invitation is all that is asked of us. Who doesn’t want to have breakfast cooked for them?

Time to eat. Be filled. Never be hungry again.

Jesus at the Sea of Galilee by Tintoretto