These are the days

I’m not really sure what to do with this space anymore, as is probably apparent by the months that pass postless. I was never really sure. Is it supposed to be sort of a public journal? A Kelli Ford The Writer—something many days I’m not even sure exists—space? A collection of memes and Saints related gifs? And what of the mixing of the three? If you have professional aspirations that veer toward the creative or think you may teach again one day soon, how careful should you be when you talk about personal things that may tend toward the vulnerable or just plain vulgar? And why display these things for the world—or um, like my Mom—to see anyway?

I don’t know, and I wish I were someone who thought less about these things and simply let ‘er rip. I remember once asking Roxane Gay via Twitter, I guess, how she handled her social media openness with her students. She simply said, and I’m way paraphrasing here, that she had accepted that they would use Google and she was okay with that…or something. I don’t know that trusted myself or my place in the classroom enough to be totally comfortable saying whatever online. The Imposter Force is often strong with this one. (Although I do feel that wearing a cardigan can mask the inherent slovenliness of a tee-shirt and a pair of Chucks.) And that’s likely a pretty good thing, for me. Still, I respect and envy those who are good with these things.

So, I feel like blogging is what I am saying. I hear a tiny little one doing her waking up Ba-Ba-Ma-Mas in the other room. So I will close with the actual things I was thinking about writing about, which made me think about where and how I write about things (It’s impossible around here, really.)

This morning I was thinking about imperfect teachers and how grateful I am for them when I have time and space to consider and live in what they were teaching. Fr. Wren, I think of you and your crooked finger and filthy mouth and goddamned loving soul often. I am grateful for you.

Photo by Maria Suarez

I was also thinking about prayer this morning. I used to pray a lot. I’ve prayed in Christian ways and other ways, in desperate and hopeful ways. I have a hard time, these days, understanding how a personal prayer can be unselfish. There is so much so big, so wrong. How can I pray for something in my small life in any way, really? I’m not interested in dogmatic answers, and I’m not Catholic. I do follow the Pope on Twitter, though, and I really wish he would follow back because I totally want to tweet him about this.