This is one of those “holidays” that puzzle most people. Briefly, “the church” teaches that it’s the day that commemorates the “coming of the Holy Spirit.” Jesus and died and arose and ascended to heaven and sent the Holy Spirit down to earth.

All righty then.

A beautiful piece of Pentecost music has him saying, “I will not leave you comfortless.” Ah.

There is so much beautiful music commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit. To comfort a bereft humanity.

I have printed out the Order of Service for St. Paul’s online service this morning. I’ll sit at the piano and sing everything all by myself. Beseeching the Holy Spirit to “Breath on me Breath of God. Fill me with life anew.”

Wearing my red shoes.

Last year on Pentecost Sunday, I wore my ruby slippers to church.

This year I’m wearing my Nikes for the online service. I bought them when Nike was being boycotted by people who disapproved of Colin Kaepernick.

I wish everyone had “listened” when he knelt down.

“Send forth your Spirit, O Lord, and renew the face of the earth.”

I know it’s really not nice to take pictures of people when they don’t know it, but I couldn’t resist this: Good neighbor Joe, a farrier, taking baby Harriet and the dogs for a walk this morning. (There is another dog there!)

One of the joys of my life right now is watching foot traffic from the big window in my snug. Best sighting this week: two girls about thirteen, choosing a book from the little library.

The roses seem to think all’s right with the world. Attitude is everything

I often annoy friends and family by being cheerful and optimistic. I say things like,”Change is good for us. We are being strengthened by this. Our faith is growing stronger through this.”

This morning, I’ve been out there watering the tomatoes, potatoes, squash, beets, carrots, raspberries I have planted in my little raised beds. I have added flour and yeast to my grocery list. I planted a tree. How hopeful of me! My bread will rise. My vegetables will grow. And I might even live long enough to see this little tree grow where the diseased birches once stood.

I’m trying. I really am. But the lives of everyone I know have been saddened by this in ways great and small.

As for me, I can no longer go for my long, daily walks as I wait for knee surgery to be scheduled months from now as surgery scheduling staffs struggle to take care of people. For me, it’s no biggie, but for some, it is.

Some young people have no graduation ceremonies and postpone their educations saying,” I didn’t just want to do school work. I wanted to go to college.” One boy has always gone to a private church school which is “going under” and cannot provide online learning. He’s now transferring to a public school which may or may not open in the fall. A couple I know is postponing having a baby because they have been laid off and have no insurance.

Feeding the hungry and homeless a has become a much bigger deal that it already was around here.

Being with the ones we love can’t happen if we really care about them.

If Pollyanna says, “Change is good for us; we are being strengthened by this; our faith is growing stronger through this; plant a tomato;” someone should slap her silly face.

Here is my illustration of Covid:

This is the only way my sister can be with my mother in the nursing home. She has put a feeder and cheerful lights outside Mother’s window. And here, Mother is resting peacefully, which is a rare, blessed moment.

Episcopal Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has joined other faith leaders in calling for a national day of mourning and lament on June 1 as the United States exceeds 100,000 documented deaths from COVID-19, and he invites Episcopalians to commemorate the victims during worship services this weekend.

I had a hard time finding a picture of him not being joyful.

We’re all watching church online these days which is already sad enough. All during the Season of Easter we’ve been sitting at home singing our alleluias.

How can we commemorate over 100,000 dead? If we started on Friday and read each one’s name and tolled a bell we couldn’t get it done.

And Monday, the first day of a new month, is to be a day of mourning and lament. I haven’t been to a funeral or memorial service in years that was not dressed up to be a “celebration of life.” We haven’t been allowed to lament or mourn in a very long time.

What will we do? Rend our clothes? Rub ashes on ourselves? Keen? We are so out of practice. Besides, we are Episcopalians. We haven’t a clue.

Art knows what to do.

And music.

Dona eis requiem
Sempiternam
Requiem