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Monthly Archives: April 2008
It can very hard to live at home,
to still be living with my parents,
two brothers and a sister,
and reciting their names
to new-found strangers,
and describe their occupations
past. present. future.
And it can be hard
to still be at home,
since sometimes my sister steals my friends,
she distracts them from me,
and I’m not sure that any girl would
ever love me.
It can be hard to live at home,
but I am still glad, full of
unmentioned joy at having those four letters,
and to have a bed and dinner,
but I think that girls can smell it on me,
ash from the hearth, or an older scent,
and that when I wake
I make
my bed, in a disciplined way,
ensuring that the blanket is straight,
and that nothing is lying on top of it,
and gently they would call me “dork,”
and maybe laugh at me later–
but not too hard–
their pity won’t let them take me seriously–
some gentle flirting in the evening,
but nothing on the way
to the doorway,
and really no dinner, maybe some tea alone together,
but hearts are someplace else–
someplace near. someplace far.
This is forgivable;
I’m unsure of my own love, (
I know who I love, but the
verb and noun
have escaped the dictionary),
and I could sit next to her,
and not believe she is real,
without touch or feel.
And that slowly my family will appear,
and absorb me, and she will be taken in,
and then
I could be nothing more than a brother,
and I’ll be the unpopular brother furthermore,
and until she cannot see me anymore–
I’ve offended her–
her true love arrives next week–
I’ve lied about her (untrue, I swear!)–
and pawed her and that
I’ve…I’ve…I’ve….
given up…
She could come for dinner next week.
No thank you! I’ll eat pizza, or eat in my room
with headphones on, watching
Buffy, Xander, Willow (sigh).
It can be hard to live at home.
It is August in Kyiv, Ukraine. An American, Jonathan “Jack” Jackson is wandering around the city alone with a translator. Jack came to Ukraine with a group of twenty Americans to build an orphanage in the countryside, two hours by train from Kyiv, but he is wandering around Kyiv because the translator and himself are useless.
Hailing from Summerville, a small town outside of Nashville, Tennessee Jack feels cumbersome and useless. The feeling of uselessness is particularly galling since he believes uselessness is a sin, and he is feeling close to despair as his cumbersome qualities are signaling to him that he is fat. Both of these problems, the potential sin of despair and the current sin of uselessness are steadily convincing him that he should resign as pastor of First Evangelical Missionary Baptist Church, Summerville, Tennessee. His translator’s name is Elizabeta Kirillevna Kovyolevna, which is trimmed for Jack’s sake to Liza. She is not feeling too bad since she there are now nineteen less Americans that she has to translate for, and now she is being paid by Jack as a translator instead of being expected to translate “all for Jesus.” They’ve quit wandering and have stepped into Saint Andrew’s Cathedral.
“Notice how the light enters the cathedral.” Liza whispers. She makes an up-and-down motion with her hand, so that Jack will observe the various dimensions of the church. “It’s much more light here than the others.” Jack nods his head and mutters “The light: the light of the world.” Liza continues her tour, telling Jack of the importance of the various acts occurring nearby: the lighting of candles, the kneeling before the altar and the kissing of an icon. She then explains the importance of the various icons. If the subject of an icon was unfamiliar to Jack, he would ask her to tell him about the figure, and he would close the story with an “Amen.” When she said the name of a figure familiar to Jack he would tell her the subject’s history. After he was finished she would look impressed and nod her head, and continue with the tour.
At the end of the tour Liza left the cathedral to answer her cell phone. Jack looked over a small souvenir shop in the church. He stared at two icons: both icons were of an older style, unlike the almost rococo icons by the altar, and one was of the Virgin Mary holding an infant Christ and the other was off Christ on the cross. Looking at them he decided to buy these icons, despite any suspicions of idolatry. He found Liza and together they walked from the church to dinner.
They went to a traditional Ukrainian restaurant, which featured waiters in traditional dress that featured blue and yellow flowers entwined up and down their clothes. Sitting at their table Jack asked, “Liza, are you disappointed that you aren’t needed at the orphanage anymore?”
She looked away from him as if she was trying to catch a glimpse of the orphanage. “No. I’m not. I didn’t understand them anyway.” Her head turned back and her eyes focused on him. “The things that happened were so strange to me, but everyone was happy, then I noticed that you didn’t share your happiness. You were confused too.”
“Yes.” He placed both hands under his chin. His eyes drifted away. “I felt like that by being alone and unhappy it meant that I would have to give up my life back in the states.” His eyes landed on the food in front of Liza. “What do you do in real life?”
She talked of translating for businessmen with black suits that are envelopes of paunch, which are like children. They played rough games in their pinstripes, but were helpless in cities. She talked sparingly of this, with gestures and expressions that Jack associated with movie-Frenchmen. He mused that she was only missing some philosophical smoke wafting from her lips. When she was through talking she asked him the same question, but he declined, saying that he was boring and he needed to rest.
That night the man known as Pastor Jack to his flock typed up this message on his laptop.
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ in Summerville—
Greetings from Beautiful Ukraine,
I have great pleasure to tell you about the Lord’s marvelous work in Ukraine. On the Sunday after our arrival at the orphanage, a few of our Ukrainian brothers met with our team for a time of Praise and Worship. Shortly into their time together, they began to altogether worship our Lord and Savior in Tongues and Prophecies. I know that we back in Summerville and in the SBC do not regularly preach Tongues and Prophecies, but the life and Spirit in our dear Brothers has convicted me of its reality.
I learned about this after returning to the orphanage from preaching at church in the city of Kiev. I am no longer at the orphanage since my spiritual direction is no longer necessary. And this event has led me on a profound Spiritual Exploration deeper into the Message of Our Lord.
God’s Blessings go with you,
Bro. Jack Jackson
He clicked “Send” and wondered if anyone one would sense the melancholy in his letter, of him being excluded, left in the darkness and gnashing of teeth. He closed the lid on his laptop, and lay on his bed without taking off his clothes, without crawling under the blanket. With the laptop off, the room was completely dark, and only a stammers of light came into the room. Some of it came from nearby streetlamps, others from electric signs near the square. Also, he noticed the light was still on in Liza’s room next door. In the dark he pulled out the two icons he had purchased, and fingered them. This concrete Christ and Mother. Full of splinters and milk, and who could heal on touch, simple bilingual touch. A month ago we would have preached against tongues, icons and melancholy, but here in Kiev they were real. A strange Holy Land. He went to sleep while watching the light under Liza’s door, and with the two icons lying next to him.


