This year Marie drives back and forth
from the hospital room of her dying friendto the office of the adoption agency.
I bet sometimes she doesn't knowWhat threshold she is waiting at—
the hand of her sick friend, hot with fever;the theoretical baby just a lot of paperwork so far.
But next year she might be standing by a grave,wearing black with a splash ofbanana vomit on it,the little girl just starting to say Sesame Streetand Cappuccino latte grand Mommy.The future ours for a while to hold, with its heaviness—
and hope moving from one location to anotherlike the holy ghost that it is.
Migration" by Tony Hoagland from What Narcissism Means To Me © Graywolf Press, 2003
At the many thresholds of our future, may our prayers this week seek Help in holding all the heaviness of our deepest griefs and longings. May we find there the Holy hope to we need to keep moving from this place to the next. Amen.