sometimes i need to find the time and silence to unwind these coils of lies these shackles of shame and the commotion in my soul so i sit in slow motion while i name each derision and consciously make the decision to breathe in the Light of the World and exhale all these false tales that shield my heart from receiving the love on the Cross He is bleeding for me losing His life to save my own taking my sin calling it His own this Christmas child a King has come to reign through love and set me free from the insanity of my own making so like these winter trees i’ll surrender the leaves those colors were so nice but it’s just a show so i’ll let them go and die to what i think i know will set me free and stay here in the mystery of winter’s necessary death it won’t last long so with each breath i’ll wait and sing a song to the Christmas King as He works in my soul and rights all wrongs He is my healer my story writer and life giver i’ll wait while He does some slow motion mending old things must have an ending to make room for the new
you think the truth you spittin is hittin and all the while it’s missin the heart why don’t you start with the 2 x 4 stickin out your face you call it grace you say you love but it feels like a shove of theological grooves that in your mouth is just fake news we all got the blues we all need the truth take a look in the mirror are you clearer to you maybe you should go feel and find what you left behind there’s nothin new under that big bright star who do you think you are who do you think you are
start something new in me set me free to be restin instead of testin everybody’s this and that where am i at what am i going to be show me me show me me
you say you prayin but you just slayin throwin hollow verses that feel like curses and what’s worse is that when you done you done silence no presence silence no assistance silence no shoulder to cry on active love to rely on your logic doesn’t do a thing get in the ring and fight for the unseen the unnoticed are real whatever they see this world to be connection is what they need don’t log off when you have your say and just walk away why don’t you show up level up your argument is sound but your heart can’t be found you stand your ground as you ground others down
start something new in me set me free to be restin instead of testin everybody’s this and that where am i at what am i going to be show me me show me me
will we ever learn doesn’t it concern you what will it take to get through your hype your type your tight tight grip you don’t want to slip so you give others your lip you just strip away humanity society can’t be free with all this anxiety you think you're the most with your posts you say i’ll be free he says i’ll be free she says i’ll be free if i just see what he sees say what she sees be what he sees like a virus you spiral your viral perspective what makes you think others want your infection when they know it’s about selection who’s in who’s out i need a heart mask to stop the bleeding i’m reeling my soul is spinning nobody is winning this losing game no one is willing to stop the blaming shaming conflating the Cross the flag the dross will be tossed someone is hungry someone is alone someone has no home being taken from their own who are we feeding do we visit the prison or stay behind the bars we keep building around our hearts did you listen to their story did you listen to their pain what does it matter if you gain the whole world but LOSE YOUR SOUL i can’t believe what some will rearrange disengage and exchange for their soul LORD HAVE MERCY the only way to be free is to get on our knees Jesus wept
when i see all the unrest the could care less and carelessness from those who should be our best it’s like a colorless sunset hollow empty shiny but still somethin’s missin’ life is just dissin’ you and me got to see these leaders and who they really be raisin’ anger makin’ danger riled up fired up lied to free to upset regress and not reset the soul or console the whole of our cities our children all the cryin’ moms does anyone hear the tears they just busy shoutin’ making fear screamin’ for what what do you want take off your mask and task yourself with being someone who is against the grain relieving pain runnin’ away from the insane inane life drain of sin and self of placing humanity on the shelf so your cause won’t die what’s the use if we just abuse and use and consider others refuse to throw away when they refuse to say what i want them to say Lord color us with mercy and grace make space for us to change and stop leaning into feelings and stay here kneeling into releasing the darkness we think is the light color our hearts with love light and truth solid unchangeable unquenchable truth fire that is higher than our silly ways have your way save us from us and deliver us to a new that never dies and that one day will help us to transcend the skies and leave this place of sorrow and woe no more night no more pain tears left behind oh God above make it so make it so we confess our sin leave judgment to you invite you to look within our broken hearts help us to start to say no to lies and yes to your truth oh God have mercy have mercy oh God color our hearts like a sunset singing loud testifying that you are here you entered our pain lived died and rose again HALLELUJAH! won’t you help us down here won’t you help us down here
sometimes it feels like i don’t know anymore can you point me to the exit door i thought it would be the tribe that had the right vibe or the cool cause would become my why but I find myself asking why the night seems darker and all the sides just lie messages dance and prance through the social media sphere shouting the truth is here the truth is here the truth is here what you see is what is true period what i see is false period we’re both right we’re both wrong period so we sing our song loud and proud and if you won’t sing along and if I won’t play cancel cancel cancel we say but i am here and so are you maybe the push to win is just polished acceptable sin i’m trying to see to open my heart to start a conversation to lay down my weapons to deal with me to recognize what’s inside this flawed broken man learning to stand on my knees dear God help me please to realize that there is no prize waiting for any side when we choose to erase a person who has or doesn’t have faith we all bear His image we all need a center it can’t be me it can’t be you the Creator’s justice His love and grace is solid and true for me for you the human race needs to slow down and embrace our limited sight our twisted mind and instead taste and see He is good He is good He is good you and i are not the answer to the problems we’ve made it’s the enemy within this fractured soul that needs redemption to be made whole what if we stopped stealing the healing with all our shouting and screaming and in stillness and silence we met our Creator and finally meet ourselves as we really are and quietly pray change me change me change me
open my eyes and let me see the impact of me in the eyes of those i say i love in the face of the stranger in the heart of my friends help me see my flaws help me see my brokenness help me see the fractures and inconsistencies in me that i so readily ignore but call out in others
dear God may the tone of my words carry grace acceptance and peace let my heart be open to know when to engage and when to disengage always with kindness and gentleness and help me love with listening help me love with understanding help me love with an other-centered spirit help me to love as you reveal me to me
am i descending or ascending is this praying or just doing my own thing cradling my heavy head in my tear stained palms i think this time it will be different my life will change my heart will finally be rearranged only to realize that even if my knees were nailed to the earth i stubbornly refuse to bend my will instead i choose to stand in shame is this my heart rising to our Father who art in heaven or am i running stumbling down into myself help me be free let my eyes see and may my ears listen to the sheer silence of your kindness open this heart mend my mind in love mercy and forgiveness i want to rise so help me bow down be still let go and listen to the sheer silence of your kindness
I have been on a three month sabbatical that will end at the end of July. One of my goals during this time was to spend time in New York with my dad and siblings. My previous post came out of my time in New York. In all the years spent growing up on Long Island, and then years going back to visit New York – we have lived in the Midwest since 1988 – I never walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. So, I decided to take a stroll on that beautiful bridge. Here is what I saw, part 1. Thanks for stopping by.
I suppose that I will always be – if not always feel like – a New Yorker. My hometown of East Meadow was right next door to famous Levittown. After WWII, returning vets heard the siren songs of suburban living, and Levittown sang loud and proud.
Not quite sure where East Meadow fits in the swift rise of suburbia, but it mostly likely knew the songs that were in the air.
In 1964, Wilfredo and Carmen purchased a small, two story Cape Cod style home on a corner lot in East Meadow. I’ve always loved the name of our street: Wilson Lane. It has a noble sound befitting my mom and dad. They were poor, could hardly speak English, and were uneducated. Their royalty was in their wisdom, their tenacity and, in full measure, their love.
And you would need love to survive the “dawning of the age of Aquarius” in East Meadow, located in Nassau County, on Long Island, in New York State. Ironically, we were a little island of Puerto Ricans in an ocean of Italian, Irish, and Jewish families. And it was wonderful. I mean, where else could you go to school with Carmine Paradisio – is that a name, or is that a name?! – and then, as a high school student, sing in musicals with members of the local Jewish synagogue. I also grew up with the long, cold shadows of the normalization of hatred and racism.
And about that, I will say this: it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized that it was difficult for my mom and my dad to live in that white suburban community. I’ll spare you the details of some of the stories, suffice it to say that, by some, we were not welcome. So much so that messages in the form of dog excrement being tossed in the yard was just one of the ways the turbulence of the times reached our corner lot. My mom and dad were silent about it, as far as I can recall. To this day, I truly believe they were teaching me important lessons. Don’t be a person who hates, even if you feel you have every reason to hate. Don’t order your life around those who have struggles in their hearts. Be a person of peace on a small little island in East Meadow in an ocean of turmoil. Peace would also need to make room for suffering, loss, and sorrow on that island. As much as we all want to live and experience life, this life can take so much from us that, even if we are still breathing, it feels like there is no reason to.
Rosalito was her name. Their firstborn. She lived for a few days. My mom mourned her until her last day. This event was the seed of much of my formation, but that’s a story that continues to unfold.
Which, of course, brings us to the present. My mom passed away in 2023 at the age of 97. She passed in the safety of her corner house… her little island in an ocean of love: my dad.
He still lives in that house and, even though my story is being told on the backlot of the Midwest, far from the Atlantic shore I love – more on that later – I have been returning home to be with my family almost every year for…well… 39+ years. And, following the well worn path of my childhood, those visits often included an eastbound trip on the Southern State Parkway to visit Rosalito.
I find that some childhood memories can show up for a visit in vivid, 3-D, surround sound. I find myself taking in the mysteriously beautiful sound of crunching autumn leaves as we brush them from around her tombstone. I can still feel my body sigh in relief as the cold water from a nearby hose washed away the unbearable heat and humidity of a Long Island summer. I can still smell the fresh, winter air as I huddled in my coat while my mom and dad whispered prayers and shed their tears. Home, family, and our little island in East Meadow will, for me, always be associated with death. And that is not a bad thing. It just is.
On this particular visit, a rainy, cold, late May welcomed me back home. Thankfully, a summer like early June won a toss of weather fronts with May. I set aside more than two weeks to be with my dad. We spent a day heading out to the southern tip of Long Island to greet the lighthouse at Montauk Point. A 3 ½ order lens (it sounds like I know what I’m talking about, but I don’t) built in 1902 was recently restored to the tippy top of that lighthouse. In a culture that places unnecessary value on new and improved, it’s comforting to realize that old and traditional can still guide and lead sojourners to light and safety. Of course, we visited Rosalito and Carmen. My mom was finally resting with my sister. We cleared out weeds, took out the artificial flowers that signaled care and love all through winter, and planted fresh, impossibly red flowers. If my mom could speak, she would tell me what the flowers were.
Though uneducated, she was a brilliant “botanist” who could revive any withered leaf, twig or petal and, as if she named each and every one herself, would tell you the name of just about any flower. God created a unique kind of nurturing spirit within her and I think losing her first child only deepened her longing to give and sustain life. Our house was a greenhouse. Green, colorful life was everywhere. And now, my dad made sure that color and life adorned the resting place of his little girl and his bride of over 60 years.
Any pilgrimage back east must include multiple mini-pilgrimages to the southern shores of Long Island. Specifically, Jones Beach.
Like the faithful ostinato from Bach’s Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor, this State Park has always been a part of me. Whether it’s a frigid, windswept winter seascape, or the end of a summer day showing off with a dazzling display of clouds and shafts of light shooting into space, or the slow motion blending and mixing of sunrise colors that Crayola never dreamed existed, this shore has been a place for reflection, prayer, worship and peace. And, every now and then, I hear and see the rocks cry out and tell of a Savior alive in this world.
I enjoyed a mid-morning stroll with my dad along the 2-mile long boardwalk. I marvel at his endurance and determination as he struggles to maintain balance and manage pain while he walks on his two artificial knees.
During a quiet, pre-dawn stroll on the shore, as the sun began to work on its morning art project, I am trying to figure out a way to take the colors right out of the sky and put them in my backpack.
rutakintome pictures 
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