This is my song

We went to services today at the First Unitarian Church. It was the first time since the tragedy that I came together with a large group of people, with the structured purpose of mourning. It was painful, but it felt important - and it helped.

At every service there is a time for people to come forward and light candles in silent commemoration of their joys and sorrows. This morning the line stretched most of the way around the sanctuary. I lit a candle for banesidhe, clairaide, fimbrethil, Harry, and Brigid. May their hopes be fulfilled, and their spirits be comforted.

Later in the service, the ministers read the names of the Maryland dead. There were a great many of them - people who worked at the Pentagon, people on the flight out of Dulles, people who left Maryland for New York. We read together a litany of remembrance, reminding us that those lost will always be with us. We gave offerings for disaster relief. The sermon was about struggling to come to terms with an American self-identity, about longings for home and security, about being fearful of differences, about struggling with anger and avoiding hate, about refusing to turn away from Muslims and Arab-Americans, about the goodness of the human spirit, about the dilemmas faced by people of good faith in trying to decide between calling for nonviolence and supporting a military response.

We sang a hymn, one of my favorites. The tune is Sibelius' Finlandia; you can find it here.

This is my song, Oh God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my sacred shrine.
But other hearts in other lands are beating,
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine.
But other lands have sunlight too and clover,
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
Oh hear my song, oh God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.

I tried to keep my voice steady through the hymn, but broke on the last line, and sobbed. Really sobbed for the first time, although tears have come to my eyes before. Continued to cry as they asked us all to hold hands and form one large circle around the cavernous sanctuary, as we stood for the blessing, as we sang God Bless America a capella and in unison. As we were embraced by friends and by total strangers.

It really helped. It was achingly painful, but it helped. It helped to grieve with others, and to hear others struggling with the same questions about peace versus justice. To hear someone else articulate the ambiguities of American identity. To hold hands.

It's time to post about ordinary things

...at least, for me it is.

We had a small alt.poly get-together last night, in honor of Darkhawk and Kevin visiting from Boston. Originally, they had been coming down for a Red Sox game, but said game has now been rescheduled for October 6. So we had dinner instead - the two of them, wcg and Paula, Ben, mittelschmertz, jodawi, Misha, and I. We went to one of our favorite local restaurants, a Brazilian steakhouse. They start you with a buffet crammed with an amazing variety of prepared dishes, and then guys dressed like gauchos come around with assorted grilled meats on two-foot spears. It's all you can eat, and excessive consumption is almost irresistable.

Some of my favorite things they have are on the cold bar: steamed mussels and shrimp, calamari and raw vegetables in a vinaigrette dressing, olives with hearts of palm, a salad of blanched greens, chick peas, and artichoke hearts, fiery green beans with cubes of some soft cheese that was probably sheep's milk-based, marinated mushrooms. And then the lamb, the crispy-skinned chicken, the seared rare sirloin, the turkey meat wrapped in bacon, all of them seasoned and redolent of the grill...

Oh, and the company was excellent as well. Darkhawk tells the only cat stories I've ever heard that haven't bored me, probably because she acts the part of the cat so vigorously. Most folks came back to our place after dinner to drink coffee and tea and chat, and it was all a very relaxed and comfortable evening. By unspoken common agreement, the most tragic subjects broached were the decline and fall of the Red Sox, and the ravages certain posters have inflicted on alt.poly. Ben rubbed backs. Darkhawk and I worked on needlework. There were long technical discussions of computer programming, which I mostly tuned out but which the participants appear to have enjoyed.

I needed an evening like that. I really feel that I'll be able to return to work tomorrow and be worth something.

(Thanks to the TOCOTOXling for my two new userpics.)