i wonder what she’s praying for she’s pleading for she’s kneeling for i wonder what this child of God is asking of her Lord
perhaps for peace inside her soul and in this world and in this world perhaps for peace inside your soul won’t you plead with her now
perhaps for love inside her soul and in your heart and in your heart perhaps for love inside her soul won’t you plead with her now
i wonder what she’s praying for she’s pleading for she’s kneeling for i wonder what this child of God is asking of her Lord
perhaps for rest from all her pain from all her pain from all her pain perhaps for rest for you and me from all the pain we feel
perhaps for pardon from her sins from her sins from her sins perhaps for pardon for your sins won’t you implore with her now
i wonder what she’s praying for she’s pleading for she’s kneeling for i wonder what this child of God is asking of her Lord
i wonder if we all could kneel we all could kneel we all could kneel i wonder if we all could kneel and join her right now cry out with her now be humble with her now be a child of God right now
when was the last time you walked across the noise in your life and journeyed into the depth of you
when was the last time you just were still and present to your soul your longing your sorrow your joy your hope your anxiety your darkness
when was the last time you closed your eyes and settled into your spirit named the pain let the tears carry away the sorrow
when was the last time you heard your voice when it tore down another soul did it leave you broken did it stab your heart
when was the last time you surrendered you admitted your limits faced your shadows let pride fall away in humility
when was the last time you said thank you i love you i was wrong please forgive me i need help
when was the last time you leaned into your ordinariness you opened your heart to your strengths and weaknesses you listened to feedback you didn’t defend yourself
when was the last time you were you not as you think you are but listened to others and how they experience you
you are an ocean a vast sea of dreams of loss laughter weeping of love fear perseverance sin of cowardice strength power kindness of impotence clarity valor uncertainty and so much more
you are human created by God loved by God seek Him rest in Him receive His love live in His grace receive His forgiveness be alive in Him He knows full well you are human
say good-bye to the veneer covering your soul to shallow shadow living say hello to all you are those parts of you kept tidy and tucked away integrate your shiny self with your darkness too
say good-bye to not knowing you to not reflecting to not pondering how those you love experience you say hello to living inside out be present to yourself listen listen listen as others share what they see who they see what they feel
say good-bye to running here and there to getting it all done to being okay with the frazzle breaking your mind feeding your anxiety say hello to stillness to stopping ceasing waiting to closing your eyes just breathing
say good-bye to pretending you’re doing fine the pain in your body is telling a different story all that scrolling diminishes you watching another series living other’s lives just won’t do say hello to being real to crying to sobbing to lamenting the hard stories that live in you must be told
say good-bye to your own strength intellect will gifts determination you’re such a success but kind of a mess say hello to faith to trust you did not make yourself He created you every moment is written His thoughts about you are precious
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
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 don't know about you but there is so much i need to say goodbye to i'll welcome the endings practice some surrendering
it's hard to study all the expectations that are now a pile of eliminations i thought this or that would be the life i would have releasing longings into the fiery ending of this day i guess it will be okay
turns out being free is not about me trying to step aside God are you tired of hearing about my pride set is ablaze like the end of this day i'm tired of getting my way
love and hope sin and shadow peace and stillness heartache and sorrow is there a place deep in the marrow of my soul where all the counterpoint of being human is awakened restored and rises whole
saying goodbye to all that tethers me to this dirt i'd rather stiffen my neck than lift up my eyes stand on my own than fall to my knees search me and know my heart let all the parts of me that you see with grace and mercy
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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