It is almost a year since Ditto died, but we find ourselves with only happy memories of the 21 years we spent with her. We met Marlyn because of Ditto and she remains a very special friend to us for the care and devotion she gave our kitty even though she only climbed up once to sit on Marlyn's lap.
When we were in Texas last year, Ditto fell trying to get up into her chair, so Marlyn made a set a stairs for her out of pillows and towels to give her wobbly weak legs the support she needed. I thought that was so wonderful. We never had to worry a minute about Ditto even when we were in New Zealand for 6 weeks and Australia for a month…because Marlyn was here to take care of her.
I'm dropping off one of my poems along with Marlyn's orchid--she has always seemed to like my writings. This one is called Brazen Love. The interesting part of the poem for me as I revisit it, is that Ditto had the most beautiful hair, long and sweet and lovely but of course she didn't know that…maybe just like Mary Magdelene.
Brazen Love
Who did she think she was?
No one. That’s who she was.
The murmuring went like this:
She shouldn’t be sitting there…at his feet.
Unheard of.
And where did she get such alabaster?
Where the perfume?
It’s not hers. Too expensive.
Now what’s she doing?
She’s unraveled her hair.
In front of everyone.
What’s the matter with her?
Someone stop her.
She’s embarrassing us. Him.
Hair unfurled, she’s pouring gold on his feet.
What could she possibly be thinking?
Disgraceful.
In front of everyone…the way she’s looking at him.
Now she smells like him, drenched in his fragrance.
Just sitting there. Not working. Not thinking of the
others.
What about the poor and needy?
She must be mad. She has lost herself.
And then the voice that slays
every shame.
“Leave her alone.
She’s mine.
I cherish her…the one whose
heart has leaned on mine,
I see her whole self,
abandoned to me, no thought of you.
She can’t see you anyway.
Can’t hear you.
Leave her alone.
She’s mine.
Among all here, she will be
remembered.
Whenever anyone talks of me, they will speak of her naked, brazen love for me and wonder why they have not done the same.
Whenever anyone talks of me, they will speak of her naked, brazen love for me and wonder why they have not done the same.
She is not ‘no one’.
She is mine.”
By Candyce Roberts
from the story of Mary
Magdelene at Jesus feet in John 12 and Luke 7
