Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Just Two More Days


So far, this week at work has been rough. I expected a lot of catching up after being out on emergency medical leave, but I didn’t expect the added challenge of my boss being openly—or at least quietly—hostile about it. It’s not always outright confrontation, but her demands and unwillingness to even discuss accommodations have been deeply disappointing. She’s also requesting documentation that, according to my physical therapist, should only come from HR. I’ll have to tell her that today, which I’m sure will be another fun conversation.

The whole situation has triggered a lot of anxiety and deepened the depression I was already feeling from the fact that my pain doesn’t seem to be getting any better. Part of that, I think, is because of how far I’ve had to walk from our temporary parking lot. Our usual lot is closed for repairs, and the longer walk from the temporary lots has been rough. The lot is supposed to reopen tomorrow, so I asked to move my work-from-home day from Friday to Wednesday to help reduce the strain. She refused.

When I tried to find another solution—asking her to address the problem of our two museum-reserved parking spaces being used by people who aren’t even patrons—she told me to take it up with her boss. It felt less like “couldn’t” and more like “wouldn’t,” but I did as she said. Thankfully, he actually took action, going out to take pictures of the cars parked there and contacting campus security. He’s dealt with severe back pain himself, though for him walking brought relief. I explained that for me, it’s the opposite—every extra step makes the pain worse.

There are other issues I could get into, but honestly, I’m too tired to go into detail. I just hope today is a better day, and I hope all of you have a good one too.

I just need to survive two more days.

Tuesday, August 12, 2025

Pic of the Day

Dog Days Done

Today’s poem arrives right on cue at the close of the Dog Days of Summer. As of yesterday, August 11, those long, sultry days ended; today, August 12, begins the slow march toward autumn. Salena Godden’s “Dog Days Done” captures this turning point with sensual, lyrical detail—personifying summer’s departure and autumn’s arrival in a way that feels both personal and universal. Godden, a British poet and novelist of Jamaican-Irish heritage, writes from a place of inclusivity and celebration, embracing her own bisexual identity and the diverse experiences that shape her work. In this piece, she reminds us that every ending is also a beginning.

Dog Days Done

By Salena Godden

 

Summer lifts her skirt

revealing a glimmer of

 

amber, light and yellow.

Summer takes her time

 

to pack her belongings,

her weary butterflies

 

and thirsty bees.

And somewhere

 

in a distant field

August writes

 

goodbye letters

in gold on hay

 

and corn and

chestnut and you.

 

The morning after

the first thunderstorm

 

you’ll open the window

and smell it changed,

 

wafts of smoke,

and rain and past.

 

This ending

is a beginning.

 

Make hay

and make love,

 

gather bilberries

and blackberries.

 

Dog days done,

Sirius is south,

 

the last burst of roses,

apples and cider,

 

the Lughnasadh feast,

the tomato harvest,

 

the fruits so red and ripe

in September’s hands,

 

summer feeding

autumn’s mouth.

 

 

About the Poem

“Dog Days Done” is a rich meditation on the seasonal turning point between the sultry heat of late summer and the first breath of autumn—precisely the transition we enter today. Godden personifies summer as a graceful, almost theatrical figure—“Summer lifts her skirt / revealing a glimmer of amber”—infusing the natural shift with sensuality and warmth.

Throughout, the imagery pulses with the fatigue and richness of August: “weary butterflies” and “thirsty bees” suggest both the end of a long labor and the sweetness that remains. The image of August writing goodbye letters in gold merges the agricultural—hay, corn, chestnut—with the personal—“and you”—inviting the reader into the intimacy of the season’s farewell.

The poem pivots on the moment after the first thunderstorm, when you “smell it changed,” a sensory shift signaling not loss, but renewal: “This ending / is a beginning.” Godden’s call to “Make hay / and make love” bridges work and pleasure, grounding the cyclical rhythm of the seasons in human touch and connection.

Her reference to the Lughnasadh feast places the poem firmly within a deep cultural and historical tradition. Lughnasadh, a Celtic festival named for the god Lugh, marks the beginning of the harvest season, traditionally celebrated on August 1 with games, markets, feasting, and offerings of the first fruits. It honors both the labor of the growing season and the gratitude for its bounty. By invoking it here, Godden aligns the personal and the cosmic—her imagery becomes not just about the turning of the weather, but about humanity’s timeless connection to the land and the cycles that sustain us.

Her closing lines—“summer feeding / autumn’s mouth”—collapse the boundaries between past and future, underscoring how every ending carries the seeds of what follows. There is also, in the openness of her imagery, a quiet inclusivity: love, labor, and renewal belong to everyone, a reflection of Godden’s own embrace of diverse identities and experiences.

 

About the Poet

Salena Godden is a British poet, author, broadcaster, and performance artist of Jamaican-Irish heritage, widely regarded as one of the most dynamic voices in contemporary UK literature. Her work spans poetry, memoir, essays, and fiction, with collections such as Under the Pier (2011), Fishing in the Aftermath: Poems 1994–2014 (2014), Pessimism Is for Lightweights – 13 Pieces of Courage and Resistance (2018), and With Love, Grief and Fury (2024). Her debut novel, Mrs Death Misses Death (2021), won multiple awards and was shortlisted for others, cementing her place as a distinctive and daring storyteller.

Openly bisexual, Godden’s creative life has often been shaped by queer spaces and sensibilities. She has spoken of writing in “glorious gay bars” and embraces a worldview informed by inclusivity, fluid identity, and celebration of difference. These values infuse her work with a generosity of spirit and a refusal to confine human experience to narrow definitions.

Elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, Godden is also an acclaimed performer, known for her live readings that blend lyricism, humor, and political consciousness. Her poetry often carries both the intimacy of lived experience and the resonance of myth, connecting personal moments to universal cycles—much like the seasonal turn captured in “Dog Days Done.”

Monday, August 11, 2025

Back to the Office… Ready or Not

Today, I head back to work. My paid medical leave officially ended yesterday. Technically, it should have shifted from continuous leave to intermittent leave for the next two months, but the Human Resources Department at my university managed to botch the approval. They didn’t follow through with everything my doctor requested, so now I have to sort that out. I need to contact my doctor this morning to see if HR even sent him the paperwork needed to fix this.

I wish they had at least considered a work-from-home arrangement, but my boss refuses to even request it. So, that’s off the table. Instead, I’ll go into the office today and spend my time reading and sending emails—tasks I could easily do from my laptop at home. I have no appointments or meetings scheduled, and if I did, they’d be virtual. My boss seems to lack any sign of empathy or sympathy, but there’s no point in continuing to complain about her. It’s just not worth the energy. There’s nothing I can do except quietly keep an eye out for other opportunities. I’d prefer to stay in New England, but I might have to look farther afield. What I won’t do is move back to Alabama.

Sorry for the work rant, but it’s what’s on my mind this morning. Since I have to face the day regardless, I’m trying to focus on the positives—like how well things went when I ventured out yesterday.

Yesterday, I ran a few errands and—surprisingly—it went great. I had no pain, walked without a limp, and felt like myself again. The only odd moment was leaving the gas station, when my right leg suddenly got wobbly. It didn’t hurt; it just wasn’t cooperating. Still, I considered the outing a success. The only caveat: I never walked more than 20–30 yards at a time. We’ll see what happens today when I have to walk farther and sit in my office chair for hours.

This morning didn’t get off to the best start. I woke up with pain in my leg and had to sit down while my coffee brewed. Maybe the day will smooth out like it did yesterday, but honestly, with the way I’m feeling right now, I’m not overly optimistic. Still, I’m holding onto the hope that today will surprise me for the better—because I could use a day that ends with me feeling proud I made it through.

Sunday, August 10, 2025

Pic of the Day

This pic would have been perfect for yesterday’s Moment of Zen, but I didn’t come across it until last night.


Narrow is the Way

Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.
— Matthew 7:13–14

Jesus’s words about the narrow and wide gates are often used to caution believers against living comfortably in sin or following the crowd without discernment. But for LGBTQ+ Christians, these verses can take on a deeper, more personal resonance.

In a world where many still misunderstand or reject queer identities—especially in Christian spaces—simply choosing to walk in truth can feel like walking the hardest, loneliest road. But Jesus never said the narrow path would be easy. He said it would lead to life.

Many of us as LGBTQ+ people of faith know intimately what it means to seek that narrow gate. We refuse the wide gate of silence, of pretending, of conforming to a version of faith that demands we deny who God created us to be. Saying “yes” to both our faith and our identity is not choosing an easy road—but it is choosing life.

Deuteronomy 30:19–20 says, “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him…” In choosing life, we choose authenticity. We choose to hold fast to a God who calls us beloved—not in spite of who we are, but wholly, wonderfully, because of who we are.

There are those who try to tell us that being LGBTQ+ and Christian is impossible. That living our truth is stepping off the path of righteousness. But we look again at Jesus’s words: the road that leads to life is hard. If it were about comfort, popularity, or fitting in, the wide gate would be enough. But our Savior walked a narrow path, too—one that led through rejection, struggle, and even death, but ultimately broke open into resurrection and glory. Hebrews 12:2–3 says, “Looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith… who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame…”

Jesus understands what it means to walk a path that others mock or reject. He never promised his followers an easy way. But he promised his presence—and the Spirit’s strength for the journey. Isaiah 30:21 says, “And when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

It’s easy to read “few find it” and feel isolated. But we are not the only ones walking this way. Across time and across the globe, queer believers are choosing the narrow gate daily, choosing integrity over fear, choosing the gospel over shame, choosing love over exclusion. Romans 8:18–19 tells us, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God.”

We know it won’t be an easy road—nearly all of us in the LGBTQ+ community, especially LGBTQ+ Christians, already know that. We have endured countless trials—whether from the church, from family, or from others who hate us or believe we are unworthy of God’s love. Not all who reject us are even religious, but their hatred is not our spiritual concern. Our calling is to honor God and to live the life Christ asks of us. As James 1:2–3 reminds us: “My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.”

The journey may be narrow, but it is not empty. It is lined with the footprints of saints and witnesses—some named, many anonymous—who dared to trust in the wideness of God’s mercy. We walk with them.

And most importantly: God walks with us.

Friday, August 8, 2025

Pic of the Day

International Cat Day: A Tribute to My Faithful Companion

 

International Cat Day is celebrated every year on August 8th—a day set aside to honor our feline friends and raise awareness about the welfare of cats around the world. It was originally created in 2002 by the International Fund for Animal Welfare (IFAW) and is now promoted globally by a number of animal welfare organizations. The day encourages responsible pet ownership, support for shelters and rescue organizations, and, of course, a little extra love and attention for the cats who share our lives.

It’s also the perfect excuse (as if I ever need one) to shine the spotlight on Isabella. She’s been a part of my life since 2016, and in that time, she’s proven herself to be equal parts queen, comedian, and comforter. But during these past few weeks, as I’ve dealt with pain and limited mobility, she’s shown me just how deeply cats can sense when something isn’t right.

Normally, Isabella claims her favorite spot draped across my thigh, but lately, she’s been avoiding that area entirely. Instead, she’s taken to curling up on my chest, purring in a steady rhythm that feels like a balm to both body and spirit. She stays close, often stretched out nearby like a furry little sentinel, watching over me with her calm green eyes. Even when she’s sleeping in another room, she pads in at regular intervals to check on me—almost as if she’s clocking in for her nursing rounds.

Like Queen Alexandra making rounds during wartime or the Queen Mother comforting bomb victims during the Blitz, Isabella has stepped up in my time of need—furry crown and all.

Cats get an unfair reputation for being aloof, but Isabella is proof that they can be as loyal, attentive, and empathetic as any companion animal. On this International Cat Day, I’m grateful not just for her beauty or her quirks, but for the quiet, steady presence that has made these difficult days so much more bearable.

If you’re lucky enough to share your life with a cat, give them an extra scratch, treat, or cuddle today—they’ve probably done more for your well-being than you realize.

“Nurse Isabella reporting for duty. Vital signs: stable. Blanket: warm. Human: monitored.”