biti

Biti is the Turkish word for finished, all gone, it's over. It is nearly always said with a brushing of the hands, a dusting off of what once was present but now is past. Done.

So biti, I say on this windy day, covered in the dust of many circumstances, words, names, to

lent...for one more year...my time of less was more, but answers to hard questions still elude me. the pascal mystery felt bettered celebrated this year by making a cosy lunch for my parents in their home because my mom, temporarily disabled, could not. Church for me and perhaps for my parents happened around the dinner table. Imperfect, yet a way of declaring peace where peace is not always to be found. I set an extra place for Jesus at this table: the celebrated guest.

to friendships I engaged in, made the decision to be part of because I just did...not much thought as I got myself into them 5, 10, 15 years ago...but with good intentions...but now they have taken turns I no longer understand or want to travel. The curvy road is making me sick. I won't cut off relationship, but I will change who I am in them, and if the weight of those decisions cannot be held by the strength of the bridge, then so be it.

to having to have all the answers. The universe in its grandeur declares to me how little I know. How little I would be capable of explaining to anyone. Scientists cannot even accurately predict how a few drops of milk will move around in your coffee cup each time you make your morning java. How many things I do each day for which I could offer no real explanation as to why they actually work. How would I explain what happens when the tulips in springtime start to pierce the soil in their straining towards daylight and rain....when they unfold themselves, baring their bravest colours?

To end is to rest and to make my small declarations is liberating. I know that with each brushing of my hands and heart, I will start again. Seeds newly planted will cycle through the necessary frames of growth, and so, I suppose, for today, I can hope, hope for what is next, for what seeds will begin to germinate beneath the surface, for what their glorious flowers will say when they arrive.

It's nice to back.