Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Never. Dull.
I've cleaned everything that needed cleaning, I can't go upstairs, because Clancey the Crackhouse Puppy and I must stay downstairs and keep a watchful eye. I am unable to settle down enough to read, and I can't watch T.V. in the darkened Den where Babiest Girl lies in a drug induced sleep. "No visual stimuli" is how the Doctor phrased it....so here I sit, in front of the computer, drinking my umpteenth cup of coffee for the day....a day that really started yesterday morning.
Babiest Girl came downstairs yesterday, dressed for school, but without that usual spring to her step. As we got breakfast together, she casually mentioned that she had a bad headache - a not completely unexpected thing - the Barometric Pressure had changed in the night, and that is one of her Migraine triggers. As she was packing up to leave she said "I had the weirdest dream - I dreamed that I hit my head on the organ". Here I will pause for a word of explanation - College Boy, being the musician that he is, just happens to have an old electric pedal organ in his Bedroom. Babiest has slept in there the last few nights, as his room is vacant, AND has the best mattress in the house. "Honey", I said, "That wouldn't even be possible...the organ is too far from the bed".
Hippie Headache oil applied, pain meds taken, I helped Baby Girl out the door to the car - she was determined to soldier on, as she has so many times before, in the onslaught of a Migraine. With one last hug, kiss and "have a good day", she was gone....off to school....and to Field Hockey Practice, and then a special dinner and Smoosh Cake - a tradition at the Fancy Pants School.
We were in touch a few times during the day, via text....nothing alarming - a little nausea along with the headache...typical for her. When she walked through the door at about 7:30 last night, I knew that we were in trouble....as soon as her feet crossed the threshold, she said "Mom, I don't think it was a dream", whereupon she raised her bangs, and pointed to a lump that had NOT been there when we examined her head before she left for school. The full story of the day came out, and it included visual disturbances, facial pain, and memory lapses. A quick call to the after hours on call Doc had us headed straight for the local ER.
As we pulled into the the parking lot, we were enveloped in what can only be described as an unsavory looking assemblage of young people (P.C. for gang bangers). So many of them, that for the briefest of moments, I was afraid to get out of the car. Putting on a brave face, I put my arm around Babiest and propelled her forward and through the big Bay doors, wondering why there were so many folks out at 8:00 on a Monday night. (I later found out that there had been another shooting, and a couple of drug overdoses)
After a triage assessment, we were taken immediately to a room, and with mind boggling speed, my girl was being wheeled down to a CT Scan. The diagnosis - concussion with a 3cm. hematoma. Blessedly, there was no brain bleeding or swelling. She had INDEED fallen out of the bed and hit her head on the damned organ. As it was explained to me by the ER Doc (I will pause to say that the Dr.s and nurses were really terrific. We couldn't have asked for better), the Concussion probably brought on a Migraine (the visual disturbances were in both eyes - indicating Migraine not confined to the one side, which would have indicated pain from the concussion). The Doctor said that it would be best if we could stop the Migraine, giving the brain the peace and quiet it needed to heal. He recommended a standard course of the "Migraine Cocktail" - 4 different IV meds that used together had great success in putting the brakes on a Migraine.
Let me state right here, that we are NOT medicine people. It is with trepidation that I hand out Advil, much less anything else. I have always been blessed to have Doctors that respected my views. Consequently - we medicate very little....an antibiotic for Strep, and that's about it. So you can imagine my distress, as the list of medications were ticked off. "Breathe", I said to myself...."all will be well, and she will be helped". And it was.....and she was........after a terrifying reaction to one of the drugs (according to the nurses, and our own Doc this morning at a follow up visit, probably the Steroid). Almost immediately after they started to push the second med into the IV, a little voice piped up, sounding as if it were far away "Is it supposed to take affect so fast? I feel funny". And then, it was as if she were Linda Blair. Her limbs flailed and trembled so violently, I was certain she was having a seizure. Body stiffened, head pushed back with mouth wide open - her heart beating so fast and hard, that the little silver Anchor necklace she was wearing bounced up and down in a nightmarish dance. Out came the heart and vitals moniters.
I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, calm and zen like....encouraging her to start her breath prayer mantra....you know - three words inhale, three words exhale....I even gave her my Mantra to use - "Trust the Gift, Trust the Giver".....inside however, I was a hot ball of fiery fear....every nerve ending screaming "Help her Lord!"
In reality, the episode probably lasted less than 10 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Then she slept, and my eyes bored holes in the monitors....heart rate dropping....140....125.....110......99....eventually all vitals returned to normal, though they kept her for quite a while for observation. When she was cleared to go, the nurse (A wonderful Man - with a true giftedness for nursing) suggested I go get the car - he would get her in a wheelchair, and keep watch over her while I was gone.
I raced down the hall, through the doors and out into the night. I had forgotten about the assembled masses of unsavory looking young people. By this time it was after midnight, and my Mothers voice came, whispering in my ear - never walk alone at night.....Keys held between my fingers to function like a sort of brass knuckles (I read about that once, as a good defense....I needed it, after I gave up carrying my real set of Brass Knuckle on my key chain after college, but that is a story for another time) I jogged to my car. unlocked the door, and threw myself inside. My long skirt caught in the door, I pulled the handle to get it unstuck and.....nothing.....my door wouldn't open. Insert your choice of expletive here - you're bound to get one of them right....I used them all. You see, my window doesn't work (neither does my A.C.), and a few nights ago, John took the inside panel of the door off, to pull out the window motor, so he could order a new one. In so doing, he may or may not have broken the door handle, and then Jerry Rigged it. Always a man with a plan, he said "Don't worry about it - it should open, and if not....just crawl out the other side".....RIGHT.
The air in my car was blue with Kitchen Words as I pulled the car out of the lot and around to the ER doors. I rolled down the passenger side window, leaned over, wearing my best "please don't hurt me" face, and inquired of the multitudes of young men loitering around the entrance if they wouldn't please help me, by opening my door from the outside. There were several that were happy to oblige, and before you know it, I was out and opening the door for Babiest Girl. My new friends were happy to help me get her into the car, and wished us well as we drove into the the night...or early morning. However you want to look at it.
John was waiting in the Relaxation Pavillion (fine...Car Port) as we pulled into the drive, whereupon he opened the door for me (He has since Re Jerry Rigged it, so I should be fine). We got Babiest in the house and on the recliner, where she slept soundly - Clancey and I kept watch.
So now, it is late afternoon. She lies on the sofa in the dark room...I sit here where I can watch the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest....Sometimes,It may be dark..... Often times,It may be hard....but my Life? It is never dull.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Another Mother
I can see her.....clear as day. Stooped and frail, neck held at an awkward angle, thanks to her dowagers hump. Glorious silvery hair, permed and done "just so", smelling of Aqua Net. I always loved how her hair matched the color of her glasses frames - deep silver with a smidge of charcoal . My Grandmother. My Father's Mother. My Father had her eyes. I have her eyes. We both had her heart.
I always thought it curious (My Father thought it highly annoying), how she could never let us go with just one hug. There was always something else to tell us, or show us, or give us. We could never make it to the car without her pressing something into my Father's hands....Some cake, or pie - some knick knack from Daddy's childhood. A plate or a glass dish, some money.....
She came to me today, unbidden but not unwelcome. She sat on my shoulder as I followed College Boy to his car - not once, but twice. She put her arm around me, as I cried through not one but two grocery stores after He left. She gently told me that I would now need to be Another Mother.
The word came right out of my own mouth. He was not the one to say it - it was me. Right on the heels of "Remember, don't drink and drive", and "Make sure you take the last of your Antibiotic" it came.
"Call me, when you get home."
And I was done for. Two weeks ago, (three days after we moved Baby Girl into College) we moved College Boy into his first Apartment. (I hope that doesn't mean I now have to call him Apartment Boy)
A year round Apartment - with a real kitchen, a washer and dryer, and a permanent address. He lives there now. Home. He visits here. "Call me when you get home".
As soon as those words left my mouth, I understood my Grandma. Every little thing she ever gave my Dad as we were trying to get started on the 2 hour trip home, even when he was 55 years old, was, for her, a tie to a time when she was his "Mama". Something that represented what she had been to him, before she had to become Another Mother. A tie to his first home....the first place that he belonged.....the place where he would always belong. It was her way of saying "Do not forget me"..."Come back again"......."I remember......"
I have no idea how to be Another Mother. I have no example. My Mom died before she could show me how to make the transition from being the Mother of a little child to that of an Adult. Another Mother.
So, College Boy pulled out of the driveway, laden with Sourdough Bread and Strawberry Freezer Jam, a couple of new shirts, and a travel mug of Coffee that I brewed, just for him.
This is what we all want, isn't it? To have our Children grow to adulthood, safe and happy? We read and we work and we do everything in our power to learn to parent children. And then they go off to College, and turn 21, and get an Apartment. And just like that, you have to start all over again, learning how to be Another Mother. On Monday, I will take Baby Girl back to her College. She will exit the car with a beautiful smile and a wave. I wager that she will not even look back, as she takes the wooded walkway to her dorm.
The first signal that soon, she will require Another Mother.....one that presses baked goods into her sweet hands as she drives away. One that prays unceasingly for her safety, her health and her happiness. One that watches as she pulls out of the driveway and heads off towards home. Hopefully by then, I will be a pro, but let me tell you.....it is going to be a steep learning curve - one best approached with caution....and a few tears.
I always thought it curious (My Father thought it highly annoying), how she could never let us go with just one hug. There was always something else to tell us, or show us, or give us. We could never make it to the car without her pressing something into my Father's hands....Some cake, or pie - some knick knack from Daddy's childhood. A plate or a glass dish, some money.....
She came to me today, unbidden but not unwelcome. She sat on my shoulder as I followed College Boy to his car - not once, but twice. She put her arm around me, as I cried through not one but two grocery stores after He left. She gently told me that I would now need to be Another Mother.
The word came right out of my own mouth. He was not the one to say it - it was me. Right on the heels of "Remember, don't drink and drive", and "Make sure you take the last of your Antibiotic" it came.
"Call me, when you get home."
And I was done for. Two weeks ago, (three days after we moved Baby Girl into College) we moved College Boy into his first Apartment. (I hope that doesn't mean I now have to call him Apartment Boy)
A year round Apartment - with a real kitchen, a washer and dryer, and a permanent address. He lives there now. Home. He visits here. "Call me when you get home".
As soon as those words left my mouth, I understood my Grandma. Every little thing she ever gave my Dad as we were trying to get started on the 2 hour trip home, even when he was 55 years old, was, for her, a tie to a time when she was his "Mama". Something that represented what she had been to him, before she had to become Another Mother. A tie to his first home....the first place that he belonged.....the place where he would always belong. It was her way of saying "Do not forget me"..."Come back again"......."I remember......"
I have no idea how to be Another Mother. I have no example. My Mom died before she could show me how to make the transition from being the Mother of a little child to that of an Adult. Another Mother.
So, College Boy pulled out of the driveway, laden with Sourdough Bread and Strawberry Freezer Jam, a couple of new shirts, and a travel mug of Coffee that I brewed, just for him.
This is what we all want, isn't it? To have our Children grow to adulthood, safe and happy? We read and we work and we do everything in our power to learn to parent children. And then they go off to College, and turn 21, and get an Apartment. And just like that, you have to start all over again, learning how to be Another Mother. On Monday, I will take Baby Girl back to her College. She will exit the car with a beautiful smile and a wave. I wager that she will not even look back, as she takes the wooded walkway to her dorm.
The first signal that soon, she will require Another Mother.....one that presses baked goods into her sweet hands as she drives away. One that prays unceasingly for her safety, her health and her happiness. One that watches as she pulls out of the driveway and heads off towards home. Hopefully by then, I will be a pro, but let me tell you.....it is going to be a steep learning curve - one best approached with caution....and a few tears.
Monday, July 7, 2014
A Moment In Time.....
It was a moment of perfect peace, in an otherwise wild, wonderful and chaotic weekend. Pork Chop and Pimento cheese biscuit in hand, I made my way to my old spot. The trees were bigger, tables and chairs had been added, but as I sat and tilted my head, eyes heavenward, the view was the same. It was unseasonably cool, a lovely breeze blowing - perfect conditions for remembrances. The high walled brick courtyard between the two Theatre buildings was my haven - my special place in College. It was the perfect setting to enjoy my breakfast before the madness of the day began..."The. Reunion." After all of the planning, the weekend had arrived. Thirty some odd years lay between most of us and our Graduation Day...
Between bites of biscuit (simmer down....it was a cheat weekend), I closed my eyes, and let the wind gather my thoughts and transport them to another day....another lifetime. Young, passionate artists tromped up and down the stairs of my memory....laughing, singing, arguing.....living. Tie Dye and leg warmers, gypsy skirts and gauze blouses, neckless tee shirts and tights - they were the dress of the day. Hair was long and crackling with vibrancy - beards were thick, and braids were king. Time steps, pirouettes and Jazz squares were more often than not modes of transportation. Emotions were worn on our sleeves as though they were precious jewels. We were friends, enemies, competitors.......family.
It was with a jolt of surprise that I opened my eyes to find myself alone in the courtyard wearing the modest dress of a middle aged woman - breakfast finished, break time over. As I stood and dusted the crumbs from my clothing, I wondered what the day would bring. Would there still be a commonality among us....those Theatre Major friends from long ago. Surely our paths had diverged and meandered so far away from each other....would we be able to recognize the original cloth from which we had been cut?
Never one to make social small talk, I nervously made my way towards the folks assembled in front of the Theatre that had given birth to our Adulthood. My fears were unfounded, as I found myself completely at home with the Grown Up persons that had once been my boon companions. The day raced by in a flurry of campus tours, Party set up, Donning my first Little Black Dress in 25 years, applying real eyeliner, and finally, walking up the polished marble steps of the Alumni House - having arrived at the Big. Event.
Stories were told....and retold. More than a few pictures of children and grandchildren were shown. Tears were shed when fallen comrades were remembered. Hugs and laughter and squeals of excitement filled the Alumni House with a golden warmth that enveloped each person there like a silk lined velvet cloak.
As the dancing began, we hit the floor to the disco tunes of our youth. Arms raised, heads thrown back - we spun in one accord, belting out the Chorus..."It's Rainin Men, Halleluljah,"...... The years melted away, and for an instant, all of those dear faces around me were as they had been, so many years ago. I was filled with a joy, the likes of which I have very seldom known. I was so present in the moment that it seemed frozen in a crystalline brightness. I was Twenty......and I was Fifty Three - all at the same time. I cherished the people that we had been, I marveled at the people we had become and I viewed the rugged miles and years between the two, as if in an out of body experience. My dance became one of Thanksgiving - for lives well lived, and a reunion of souls....long separated, but never forgotten. Thanks be to God, for the blessings of the day.
Between bites of biscuit (simmer down....it was a cheat weekend), I closed my eyes, and let the wind gather my thoughts and transport them to another day....another lifetime. Young, passionate artists tromped up and down the stairs of my memory....laughing, singing, arguing.....living. Tie Dye and leg warmers, gypsy skirts and gauze blouses, neckless tee shirts and tights - they were the dress of the day. Hair was long and crackling with vibrancy - beards were thick, and braids were king. Time steps, pirouettes and Jazz squares were more often than not modes of transportation. Emotions were worn on our sleeves as though they were precious jewels. We were friends, enemies, competitors.......family.
It was with a jolt of surprise that I opened my eyes to find myself alone in the courtyard wearing the modest dress of a middle aged woman - breakfast finished, break time over. As I stood and dusted the crumbs from my clothing, I wondered what the day would bring. Would there still be a commonality among us....those Theatre Major friends from long ago. Surely our paths had diverged and meandered so far away from each other....would we be able to recognize the original cloth from which we had been cut?
Never one to make social small talk, I nervously made my way towards the folks assembled in front of the Theatre that had given birth to our Adulthood. My fears were unfounded, as I found myself completely at home with the Grown Up persons that had once been my boon companions. The day raced by in a flurry of campus tours, Party set up, Donning my first Little Black Dress in 25 years, applying real eyeliner, and finally, walking up the polished marble steps of the Alumni House - having arrived at the Big. Event.
Stories were told....and retold. More than a few pictures of children and grandchildren were shown. Tears were shed when fallen comrades were remembered. Hugs and laughter and squeals of excitement filled the Alumni House with a golden warmth that enveloped each person there like a silk lined velvet cloak.
As the dancing began, we hit the floor to the disco tunes of our youth. Arms raised, heads thrown back - we spun in one accord, belting out the Chorus..."It's Rainin Men, Halleluljah,"...... The years melted away, and for an instant, all of those dear faces around me were as they had been, so many years ago. I was filled with a joy, the likes of which I have very seldom known. I was so present in the moment that it seemed frozen in a crystalline brightness. I was Twenty......and I was Fifty Three - all at the same time. I cherished the people that we had been, I marveled at the people we had become and I viewed the rugged miles and years between the two, as if in an out of body experience. My dance became one of Thanksgiving - for lives well lived, and a reunion of souls....long separated, but never forgotten. Thanks be to God, for the blessings of the day.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Calendar Days
The Mary Englebreight tear off calendar on my desk reads Thursday, June 12th.....nothing unusual there, except for the fact that it is June 23rd - so late on June 23rd that it is almost June 24th. I won't let my family rip the pages off, because I would really like for it to be Thursday June 12th again....please? (OK - fine...so denial is more than a river in Egypt)
June 12th is the day after June 11th, which is the day that Baby Girl Graduated. From. High. School. It is also the day that we let her in on a secret that we had been holding in for months...10 months to be exact. It took us that long to plan, and save, plan some more....save some more. John came up with the idea last summer. "Let's reward Baby Girl (He doesn't really call her that....I just use that name to protect the mostly innocent!) with something amazing for her graduation. Let's go on a trip - a big trip!" Because you see - School has been really hard for Baby Girl....I mean REALLY hard. And she NEVER. GAVE. UP....and beyond that, she excelled, and graduated with honors. So we planned, and saved, and had family conferences (minus Baby Girl, of course), and told enough other people that it is a blessed miracle that not one person let the cat out of the bag.
So....at lunch, on the big day, just hours before Graduation, we sprung the surprise - with a big wrapped box of seemingly unrelated items. She was required to guess what it might all mean - it didn't take her long to piece it together, and the memory of her reaction will be held close to my heart, until the day that memory serves me no more. At the HineyCrack of dawn the next morning (The aforementioned June 12th), despite my own emergency oral surgery 2 days prior, we were off in our rental van (SO nice - and such a pleasant change from my 10 year old van that has no AC, OR operating drivers side window - me slurping a liquid diet, and swigging antibiotic mouthwash like an old Wino). First stop - Orlando,Universal and Harry Potter World - our dream come true (Yes, fine....we are MAJOR Potterheads). Next, 5 days on the Gulf of Mexico, and then a few more days in St. Augustine - the birthplace of College Boy. What a time we had -All five Kennedys, together again.... hitting the road....living the high life!
As an aside, may I say that in no time in the last year has my 89 pound weight loss been more exciting to me. I got on rides, and never even thought ONCE about whether or not the safety bar would close. I scooted into my place in a tight booth at the Three Broomsticks, like I had been doing it all of my life. I walked for 12 hours straight in the heat - even with plantar fasciitis from too much Zumba...all the while wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt (Who KNEW that the air could feel so amazing on uncovered limbs?) I wore my first ever tankini, I laid on a blanket in the warm sand, and got up, unassisted....more than once. I walked for miles, doing the Sanibel stoop - looking for shells....and actually stooped!
We laughed, and played games....fished and ate....we lined up our beach chairs, and read in the sun and the breeze and the quiet communion of souls that are happy, just to be together. We witnessed rainbows over the ocean, and storms that shook the beautiful old beach house on the Gulf. We retold favorite family stories, and finished each others sentences...and on the last leg of our journey, when we parked in front of the old farm house that John and I bought and restored in the first year of our marriage, I marveled at how quickly time had passed...I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the Blessings of this life that John and I have made together. (26 years in 2 days!) I remembered how we brought College Boy home to that very house when he was less than 24 hours old.(He will be 21 in less than 2 months.)
We visited with friends that prove the old adage about the quality of friendships that can be picked up as if the years were days.
As we turned the car north, mostly grown children asleep in the back...my mind raced ahead of the Van, and I cataloged those things that were waiting for me at home. College Boy leaving for the summer J.O.B. within hours of our arrival. Vacation Bible School in One. Week. Big College Reunion (Did I mention that the last day features a cookout....at my HOUSE?!) in Two. Weeks. Mission Trips for the Girls. Things to gather and buy for Baby Girls Dorm Room. Things to gather and buy for College Boys first apartment. And then, there is my friend....my beloved friend, several weeks into a Cancer diagnosis. Must check in with him...first thing.
And now, three days since our return, there is today....when the Cancer diagnosis for my friend, took an unhappy turn...a scary turn....a wrenching turn. Which would be why I find myself out of bed, sitting at my desk....staring at the calendar in the deep dark of the night...willing it to be June 12th again...with the Rental Van loaded with five Happy Kennedys, headed South, for the trip of a lifetime...anticipation like warm ButterBeer in our bellies.....10 days of unadulterated bliss stretching out ahead of us...I mean REALLY...the calendar SAYS it is so..........would that it were.
June 12th is the day after June 11th, which is the day that Baby Girl Graduated. From. High. School. It is also the day that we let her in on a secret that we had been holding in for months...10 months to be exact. It took us that long to plan, and save, plan some more....save some more. John came up with the idea last summer. "Let's reward Baby Girl (He doesn't really call her that....I just use that name to protect the mostly innocent!) with something amazing for her graduation. Let's go on a trip - a big trip!" Because you see - School has been really hard for Baby Girl....I mean REALLY hard. And she NEVER. GAVE. UP....and beyond that, she excelled, and graduated with honors. So we planned, and saved, and had family conferences (minus Baby Girl, of course), and told enough other people that it is a blessed miracle that not one person let the cat out of the bag.
So....at lunch, on the big day, just hours before Graduation, we sprung the surprise - with a big wrapped box of seemingly unrelated items. She was required to guess what it might all mean - it didn't take her long to piece it together, and the memory of her reaction will be held close to my heart, until the day that memory serves me no more. At the HineyCrack of dawn the next morning (The aforementioned June 12th), despite my own emergency oral surgery 2 days prior, we were off in our rental van (SO nice - and such a pleasant change from my 10 year old van that has no AC, OR operating drivers side window - me slurping a liquid diet, and swigging antibiotic mouthwash like an old Wino). First stop - Orlando,Universal and Harry Potter World - our dream come true (Yes, fine....we are MAJOR Potterheads). Next, 5 days on the Gulf of Mexico, and then a few more days in St. Augustine - the birthplace of College Boy. What a time we had -All five Kennedys, together again.... hitting the road....living the high life!
As an aside, may I say that in no time in the last year has my 89 pound weight loss been more exciting to me. I got on rides, and never even thought ONCE about whether or not the safety bar would close. I scooted into my place in a tight booth at the Three Broomsticks, like I had been doing it all of my life. I walked for 12 hours straight in the heat - even with plantar fasciitis from too much Zumba...all the while wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt (Who KNEW that the air could feel so amazing on uncovered limbs?) I wore my first ever tankini, I laid on a blanket in the warm sand, and got up, unassisted....more than once. I walked for miles, doing the Sanibel stoop - looking for shells....and actually stooped!
We laughed, and played games....fished and ate....we lined up our beach chairs, and read in the sun and the breeze and the quiet communion of souls that are happy, just to be together. We witnessed rainbows over the ocean, and storms that shook the beautiful old beach house on the Gulf. We retold favorite family stories, and finished each others sentences...and on the last leg of our journey, when we parked in front of the old farm house that John and I bought and restored in the first year of our marriage, I marveled at how quickly time had passed...I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the Blessings of this life that John and I have made together. (26 years in 2 days!) I remembered how we brought College Boy home to that very house when he was less than 24 hours old.(He will be 21 in less than 2 months.)
We visited with friends that prove the old adage about the quality of friendships that can be picked up as if the years were days.
As we turned the car north, mostly grown children asleep in the back...my mind raced ahead of the Van, and I cataloged those things that were waiting for me at home. College Boy leaving for the summer J.O.B. within hours of our arrival. Vacation Bible School in One. Week. Big College Reunion (Did I mention that the last day features a cookout....at my HOUSE?!) in Two. Weeks. Mission Trips for the Girls. Things to gather and buy for Baby Girls Dorm Room. Things to gather and buy for College Boys first apartment. And then, there is my friend....my beloved friend, several weeks into a Cancer diagnosis. Must check in with him...first thing.
And now, three days since our return, there is today....when the Cancer diagnosis for my friend, took an unhappy turn...a scary turn....a wrenching turn. Which would be why I find myself out of bed, sitting at my desk....staring at the calendar in the deep dark of the night...willing it to be June 12th again...with the Rental Van loaded with five Happy Kennedys, headed South, for the trip of a lifetime...anticipation like warm ButterBeer in our bellies.....10 days of unadulterated bliss stretching out ahead of us...I mean REALLY...the calendar SAYS it is so..........would that it were.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The Roar of the Greasepaint....
The chain link of the fencing pressed into my back, as I bent over double....hand grasping the knob of the old red door. My eyes and nose were pouring. Fortunately, I had a kleenex in the apron pocket of my costume. Great spasms of laughter racked my body, but as I stood outside, between the snorts and guffaws, I could feel the sun on my face...smell the green of spring, mingled with the perfume of the dumpster that resides behind the Theatre. How many times over the years have I stood in just that spot - smelling the spring - watching thunder storms roll by - freezing in the winter wind.
It started off like any other Tuesday Matinee....pushed and prodded by the impatient senior citizens behind me in the buffet line (One of the perks of working Dinner Theatre? Free Food!), a meal shared upstairs in the green room with my castmates, too long of a lingering at the table with stories, news, and a few photographic highjinks, rushing to jump into costume at 5 minutes till places.
All was well, until the top of the second act, when in what can only be described as a momentary brain malfunction, I misplaced a couple of words. Where they went, I can not say.....but the words I replaced them with came haltingly, and were mostly of the made up variety....As rarely happens....ok, as sometimes happens.....fine.....as often happens, those of us onstage got tickled - me, I am ashamed to admit it, most of all. Thankfully, I was scripted to exit the stage fairly quickly, where I was met by the stage manager....we dissolved into fits of laughter. A quick moment back on stage - only to leave again with another actor, where once safely offstage,we resumed the laughfest (hopefully inaudibly!) Back onstage, I managed to finish my dialogue AND a song, and then finally - a few minutes to go outside and compose myself, before my next entrance - which is how I found myself wedged between the chain link and the door. I have, for Thirty years with regularity (other than the 5 years I lived in Florida) worked at this Theatre. It is as intrinsically linked to my life as are the homes in which I have lived, the Church in which I worship (and work), the corner shop where I purchase my coffee....For over half of my life, I have parked my car in the back lot, walked up the actors stairs, and "done my thing". And standing there today, in the sun and the liquid mirth - I had a moment of great clarity.
Now, there are those in the Thesbian world that might look down upon Dinner Theatre, and truly enough, it is not Academic Theatre...nor is it highbrow....You would be hard pressed to find a Pulitzer Prize winning script being performed on a stage in the Dinner Theatre Circuit. But that being said, I would offer up that the Shows and performances that are typically found in such venues are no less valid....no less art.
Is not the goal of the Drama to offer up a slice of life? To move people to both ends of the emotional spectrum....laughter, tears....highs, lows, and every place in between - to allow the story to envelope the audience, to the point that they become a living, breathing part of the story? I have been blessed over the years, to tell many stories, sing many songs...I have been blessed to have a place to work, to hone my craft, to work with incredibly talented actors and musicians. I have been blessed to bring a much needed paycheck home to my family....to be the working actor I aspired to be, when I was a young woman.
Well, I finally pulled it together, and went back onstage. The song at the end of the show, is about a quilt, given to a young Mother, by the 3 Church Women (One being her Mother) who have loved and nurtured her for the entirety of her life. The harmonies are glorious, the lyrics thoughtfully written. As I sang it today, I looked at each of my fellow cast members - men and women that I have known and worked with for years, and was deeply moved by the role they, and all of the other folks I have shared that stage with in days gone by, have played in my life. The tapestry of art and life that they have helped me to weave.
After the curtain call, we gathered in the Lobby, for the Traditional "Joyed It Line" (you know, where the audience members come out, shake your hand and, and murmur "Joyed It") I was hugged by Grandma's who still had tears streaming down their faces....I was slapped on the shoulder by old men with craggy faces and misty eyes, and for a moment, connected by the art - by the story - by the song, we were not strangers, but a part of each other's lives.
"Put a piece here, Put a piece there, the picture comes alive.
And row, by row, the story grows, and through each tale we survive.
Hands have stitched this quilt together, knowing the tales of your heart
And love has stitched our lives together, so tightly they won't come apart"
It started off like any other Tuesday Matinee....pushed and prodded by the impatient senior citizens behind me in the buffet line (One of the perks of working Dinner Theatre? Free Food!), a meal shared upstairs in the green room with my castmates, too long of a lingering at the table with stories, news, and a few photographic highjinks, rushing to jump into costume at 5 minutes till places.
All was well, until the top of the second act, when in what can only be described as a momentary brain malfunction, I misplaced a couple of words. Where they went, I can not say.....but the words I replaced them with came haltingly, and were mostly of the made up variety....As rarely happens....ok, as sometimes happens.....fine.....as often happens, those of us onstage got tickled - me, I am ashamed to admit it, most of all. Thankfully, I was scripted to exit the stage fairly quickly, where I was met by the stage manager....we dissolved into fits of laughter. A quick moment back on stage - only to leave again with another actor, where once safely offstage,we resumed the laughfest (hopefully inaudibly!) Back onstage, I managed to finish my dialogue AND a song, and then finally - a few minutes to go outside and compose myself, before my next entrance - which is how I found myself wedged between the chain link and the door. I have, for Thirty years with regularity (other than the 5 years I lived in Florida) worked at this Theatre. It is as intrinsically linked to my life as are the homes in which I have lived, the Church in which I worship (and work), the corner shop where I purchase my coffee....For over half of my life, I have parked my car in the back lot, walked up the actors stairs, and "done my thing". And standing there today, in the sun and the liquid mirth - I had a moment of great clarity.
Now, there are those in the Thesbian world that might look down upon Dinner Theatre, and truly enough, it is not Academic Theatre...nor is it highbrow....You would be hard pressed to find a Pulitzer Prize winning script being performed on a stage in the Dinner Theatre Circuit. But that being said, I would offer up that the Shows and performances that are typically found in such venues are no less valid....no less art.
Is not the goal of the Drama to offer up a slice of life? To move people to both ends of the emotional spectrum....laughter, tears....highs, lows, and every place in between - to allow the story to envelope the audience, to the point that they become a living, breathing part of the story? I have been blessed over the years, to tell many stories, sing many songs...I have been blessed to have a place to work, to hone my craft, to work with incredibly talented actors and musicians. I have been blessed to bring a much needed paycheck home to my family....to be the working actor I aspired to be, when I was a young woman.
Well, I finally pulled it together, and went back onstage. The song at the end of the show, is about a quilt, given to a young Mother, by the 3 Church Women (One being her Mother) who have loved and nurtured her for the entirety of her life. The harmonies are glorious, the lyrics thoughtfully written. As I sang it today, I looked at each of my fellow cast members - men and women that I have known and worked with for years, and was deeply moved by the role they, and all of the other folks I have shared that stage with in days gone by, have played in my life. The tapestry of art and life that they have helped me to weave.
After the curtain call, we gathered in the Lobby, for the Traditional "Joyed It Line" (you know, where the audience members come out, shake your hand and, and murmur "Joyed It") I was hugged by Grandma's who still had tears streaming down their faces....I was slapped on the shoulder by old men with craggy faces and misty eyes, and for a moment, connected by the art - by the story - by the song, we were not strangers, but a part of each other's lives.
"Put a piece here, Put a piece there, the picture comes alive.
And row, by row, the story grows, and through each tale we survive.
Hands have stitched this quilt together, knowing the tales of your heart
And love has stitched our lives together, so tightly they won't come apart"
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Songs in the Night....
Children to my left were dancing. Trombone and clarinet were wailing. Stomping and clapping ensued....and there was singing - lots of singing. My kind of funeral.
In the last month, I have lost three friends. Larry. My first college boyfriend. A boy with gorgeous eyes, dreamy eyelashes and a mischievous smile that reeled you in like a sea bass. His adult life - the years after we lost touch, were not easy. My heart broke for him, as we reconnected on Facebook, where he shared some of his journey with me. His death - sudden and unexpected.
Laura - a mentor from my early days in Professional Theatre. Just a few years older than me, Laura was the Cool Kid....she taught me how to laugh at myself, and made certain that I was accepted and at ease. Her death - sudden and unexpected. She died on the same day as my third friend fell ill.
Lee - A man with a spirit as large as his girth. A friend from the instant I met him, my Freshman year in College. It is Lee's funeral from which I have just returned. His death....not so sudden. Not totally unexpected.
I was honored and proud to sing with the choir today. Not my choir, but a marvelously large choir in a magnificent Church one town over. A choir in which Lee was a beloved member....in a Church where Lee was a vital congregant. Lee, with his chortling belly laugh.....Lee, who sparkled and oozed fun....Lee, who could put more syllables and intonation into the phrase "My, Dear", than any person I have ever met. Lee.....who was the embodiment of discipleship - a man who lived his faith. A man who loved children, music, theatre, movies and all things southern. A man with a wicked sense of humor, who was impressed by one's ability to accessorize. A man who didn't let the limitations of his body hamper his determination to live life to the fullest. A man who lived large....who loved large. A man who made no apologies for who he was. A man who shared his Joy with one and all.
All, gone too soon. Larry.........Laura.......Lee........... One month, Three L's.......LLL.......Live Like Lee.
We should all be so blessed - to live like Lee. To Love so deeply and openly. To revel in Laughter. To be such a good friend.To spread joy. To be an encouraging presence to those in our lives. To be fully invested in who. we. are. To Live Like Lee.
The text to one of my favorite Anthems was on the back of the Funeral Bulletin.....let us Live Like Lee - with a song in the night.....
"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.....What tho' the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth. No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that refuge clinging. Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, How can I keep from singing...."
In the last month, I have lost three friends. Larry. My first college boyfriend. A boy with gorgeous eyes, dreamy eyelashes and a mischievous smile that reeled you in like a sea bass. His adult life - the years after we lost touch, were not easy. My heart broke for him, as we reconnected on Facebook, where he shared some of his journey with me. His death - sudden and unexpected.
Laura - a mentor from my early days in Professional Theatre. Just a few years older than me, Laura was the Cool Kid....she taught me how to laugh at myself, and made certain that I was accepted and at ease. Her death - sudden and unexpected. She died on the same day as my third friend fell ill.
Lee - A man with a spirit as large as his girth. A friend from the instant I met him, my Freshman year in College. It is Lee's funeral from which I have just returned. His death....not so sudden. Not totally unexpected.
I was honored and proud to sing with the choir today. Not my choir, but a marvelously large choir in a magnificent Church one town over. A choir in which Lee was a beloved member....in a Church where Lee was a vital congregant. Lee, with his chortling belly laugh.....Lee, who sparkled and oozed fun....Lee, who could put more syllables and intonation into the phrase "My, Dear", than any person I have ever met. Lee.....who was the embodiment of discipleship - a man who lived his faith. A man who loved children, music, theatre, movies and all things southern. A man with a wicked sense of humor, who was impressed by one's ability to accessorize. A man who didn't let the limitations of his body hamper his determination to live life to the fullest. A man who lived large....who loved large. A man who made no apologies for who he was. A man who shared his Joy with one and all.
All, gone too soon. Larry.........Laura.......Lee........... One month, Three L's.......LLL.......Live Like Lee.
We should all be so blessed - to live like Lee. To Love so deeply and openly. To revel in Laughter. To be such a good friend.To spread joy. To be an encouraging presence to those in our lives. To be fully invested in who. we. are. To Live Like Lee.
The text to one of my favorite Anthems was on the back of the Funeral Bulletin.....let us Live Like Lee - with a song in the night.....
"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.....What tho' the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth. No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that refuge clinging. Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, How can I keep from singing...."
Thursday, November 14, 2013
After the showers have gone.....
Johns' Explorer made the perfect Ice Pack this morning. Crackhouse Puppy needed to go out, so I gingerly slipped on my Crocs, threw on my shawl and carefully stepped outside. While waiting for my buddy to get down to business, I leaned against the car....Ice Cold, and the perfect height. It hit most of my parts that are screaming with pain this morning.
It's been a Hell of a week in the Kennedy household....actually, a Hell of a two weeks. Mr. Kennedy had a serious allergic reaction to a sulfa antibiotic he was taking to ward off any nasty infections, after he cut his hand at work and became the recipient of a number of stitches. Babiest girl has Pneumonia. Baby Girl has some weird virus that settled in her eye and stomach that also produced multiple days of hives....and me? Well, I fell out of the attic on Tuesday. (This being Thursday, I am REALLY feeling it today....).
I decided to take advantage of Baby Girl being home on a school day, and enlist her to help me with the Thanksgiving decorations...which, of course, were in the attic. She was up in the attic, getting the boxes and handing them to me for transport down the ladder (One of those nasty pull down things). Standing on the next to the top step - my body in the attic space - I reached for the box, and in the blink of an eye, the contents in the box shifted as I grabbed hold and knocked me off balance. Shift to slow motion. As I fell backwards, I twisted in mid air - grabbing for the art piece that was hanging on the wall to my left - sending it crashing to the ground. I followed. The good news is the box fell on top of me - I cushioned it's fall, so none of the contents were destroyed! I heard a screaming in my head...I assumed it was my scream, but it belonged to Baby Girl - she thought I was dead, because evidently I was neither moving or breathing (Having had the wind knocked out me). She jumped from mid ladder (She will be seeing the orthopod on Monday - she did something to her foot!) "Mama....MAMA!......are You OK?!" Me: "I......don't.......know. Go get Debbie". About that time, Babiest girl (having dragged herself off of her sickbed : i.e. Recliner) comes screaming up the stairs. There I lay....face down, trying to asses the extent of my injuries - feet...really bad. Hip....pretty bad.....Left arm.....agony.....Head.....still attached.
Baby Girl must have flown across the street, because suddenly she was back with my neighbor Debbie - a nurse. She looked me over, and shared my concerns over my feet, arm and hip. I sat up slowly, and we determined my hip was not broken....feet blue and swelling....arm excruciating. John made the 20 mile trip home from work in record time, and we were off for Xrays.
Barefoot and shaking, I managed to get myself into the wheelchair at the medical facility (Which shall not be named, to protect the innocent). It was raining - a cold rain mixed with a few snow flakes. By the time John wheeled me inside, I was damp and freezing.(John was so sweet....he laid an old towel he had in the back of the car on the pavement, so I wouldn't get my feet wet as I stepped down). The receptionist, who was expecting us thanks to a call from my neighbor, got right down to business. Name? Date of Birth? Address? Insurance?................... silence...........because, of course....we have none. Since John lost his job 4 and 1/2 years ago - we have been among the ranks of the uninsured. He works 6 days a week in a commission only job. They, of course OFFER insurance, but to pay the premium - many months that would be more than John brings home....he would owe his employers money. I am not eligible for insurance at my job, because I am not a full time employee. We have been able to supply the kids with insurance...but us? Not possible. So we have done what we have always done in our life together. We have made the best of it. Most days, while I ALWAYS think about it, I am able to deal with it.....even when friends and family make snide remarks about "Lazy no good people trying to bilk good tax paying folks out of their hard earned money." Even while I read post after post on Facebook containing cruel, hateful, ignorant rantings about "Obamacare", and how "those people" don't deserve to be insured if "they" don't work for it.
I have been advised more than once to keep my political leanings to myself, and out of the public forum. Wise advice, in light of what I do for a living. Advice that I generally adhere to, because I have no desire to hurt anyone's feelings, or make them feel uncomfortable ....But that Tuesday afternoon, full of fear and in excruciating pain, under the sneer of the receptionist who, looking down her nose at me said..."Oh we do NOT serve uninsured patients here."....well, something broke inside me. There she stood - this girl who I am CERTAIN had far less education than my husband and I do...this girl that had poor grammar and even poorer posture, with one glance passed judgement upon us as unworthy....as some of "those people".
I fought back tears in my shame.....I was embarrassed beyond measure - by this time, people in the waiting room were staring at us...trying to get a look at the "freeloaders". I couldn't even look at John....I couldn't bear to see the pain in his face....the pain that I knew full well was there. Mortified and shaking, I started to say "Let's just go home", when the receptionist said with a put upon air "Well, let me call upstairs....sometimes they see the uninsured up there". Thankfully, there was a compassionate person on the other end of the phone, and they agreed to see us (after a very large upfront payment). The Doctor was kind, and Thank You Jesus, nothing was broken, which was miraculous, given my age and the height from which I fell.
Perhaps I should say, no bones were broken...because something in me DID break on Tuesday. My shame and embarrassment turned to anger somewhere around the 3rd of many XRays.
I don't know any person who works harder than my John. He works 6 days a week at his full time job, then does furniture repair on the side. He also mows lawns and anything else he can find to do. He is a person to be admired and respected, because he refuses to let himself be dragged asunder by our circumstances. I too, take as many paying jobs as I can find, in addition to my work at the Church. Acting gigs, singing gigs... whatever pays (and is legal!), well - you can count me in!
I say this, not to elicit sympathy, or pity....but to say, "I'm mad as Hell, and I'm not going to take it any more". Each snide or careless comment or FaceBook post has taken a little chink out of my soul. I only ask, that before you post that Meme about Obamacare.....or go on a two paragraph rant about "those people"....or stand around in a group and loudly discuss those good for nothing folks that don't have insurance, I only ask that you think.....that you see my face, or Johns face, and remember that there, but for the grace of God YOU might go. We never in our wildest imaginings would have dreamed that at our age, and level of education and work experience we would find ourselves in such a spot - but here we are, and here we have been for quite some time.The AFFORDABLE CARE ACT is, at this point, our only hope for insurance.....and it's not just us.....it is millions like us.....hardworking people, trying to do their best with circumstances beyond their control.
So yes....I did break something on Tuesday....and in a way, I am glad. Because I will no longer be ashamed, and afraid that someone might "find out" that we have no insurance. And if you are among my friends or family to post something hateful on FaceBook, or engage in a conversation in my hearing, rest assured that I will be privately sharing with you my point of view. Not in a public forum such as you have used to chip away at my self esteem, but privately and intently. I will defend your right to believe as you choose -I always have, and I always will....but I will no longer stand quietly by and say nothing, as you have a go at "those lazy people", for as my Mama taught me, "By saying and doing nothing....I HAVE said and done something - something contrary to my beliefs".
Thanks be to God, for the mercies of this week....for another chance to Keep on Keepin On.....for "hope, of the sunshine tomorrow, after the showers have gone"......
It's been a Hell of a week in the Kennedy household....actually, a Hell of a two weeks. Mr. Kennedy had a serious allergic reaction to a sulfa antibiotic he was taking to ward off any nasty infections, after he cut his hand at work and became the recipient of a number of stitches. Babiest girl has Pneumonia. Baby Girl has some weird virus that settled in her eye and stomach that also produced multiple days of hives....and me? Well, I fell out of the attic on Tuesday. (This being Thursday, I am REALLY feeling it today....).
I decided to take advantage of Baby Girl being home on a school day, and enlist her to help me with the Thanksgiving decorations...which, of course, were in the attic. She was up in the attic, getting the boxes and handing them to me for transport down the ladder (One of those nasty pull down things). Standing on the next to the top step - my body in the attic space - I reached for the box, and in the blink of an eye, the contents in the box shifted as I grabbed hold and knocked me off balance. Shift to slow motion. As I fell backwards, I twisted in mid air - grabbing for the art piece that was hanging on the wall to my left - sending it crashing to the ground. I followed. The good news is the box fell on top of me - I cushioned it's fall, so none of the contents were destroyed! I heard a screaming in my head...I assumed it was my scream, but it belonged to Baby Girl - she thought I was dead, because evidently I was neither moving or breathing (Having had the wind knocked out me). She jumped from mid ladder (She will be seeing the orthopod on Monday - she did something to her foot!) "Mama....MAMA!......are You OK?!" Me: "I......don't.......know. Go get Debbie". About that time, Babiest girl (having dragged herself off of her sickbed : i.e. Recliner) comes screaming up the stairs. There I lay....face down, trying to asses the extent of my injuries - feet...really bad. Hip....pretty bad.....Left arm.....agony.....Head.....still attached.
Baby Girl must have flown across the street, because suddenly she was back with my neighbor Debbie - a nurse. She looked me over, and shared my concerns over my feet, arm and hip. I sat up slowly, and we determined my hip was not broken....feet blue and swelling....arm excruciating. John made the 20 mile trip home from work in record time, and we were off for Xrays.
Barefoot and shaking, I managed to get myself into the wheelchair at the medical facility (Which shall not be named, to protect the innocent). It was raining - a cold rain mixed with a few snow flakes. By the time John wheeled me inside, I was damp and freezing.(John was so sweet....he laid an old towel he had in the back of the car on the pavement, so I wouldn't get my feet wet as I stepped down). The receptionist, who was expecting us thanks to a call from my neighbor, got right down to business. Name? Date of Birth? Address? Insurance?................... silence...........because, of course....we have none. Since John lost his job 4 and 1/2 years ago - we have been among the ranks of the uninsured. He works 6 days a week in a commission only job. They, of course OFFER insurance, but to pay the premium - many months that would be more than John brings home....he would owe his employers money. I am not eligible for insurance at my job, because I am not a full time employee. We have been able to supply the kids with insurance...but us? Not possible. So we have done what we have always done in our life together. We have made the best of it. Most days, while I ALWAYS think about it, I am able to deal with it.....even when friends and family make snide remarks about "Lazy no good people trying to bilk good tax paying folks out of their hard earned money." Even while I read post after post on Facebook containing cruel, hateful, ignorant rantings about "Obamacare", and how "those people" don't deserve to be insured if "they" don't work for it.
I have been advised more than once to keep my political leanings to myself, and out of the public forum. Wise advice, in light of what I do for a living. Advice that I generally adhere to, because I have no desire to hurt anyone's feelings, or make them feel uncomfortable ....But that Tuesday afternoon, full of fear and in excruciating pain, under the sneer of the receptionist who, looking down her nose at me said..."Oh we do NOT serve uninsured patients here."....well, something broke inside me. There she stood - this girl who I am CERTAIN had far less education than my husband and I do...this girl that had poor grammar and even poorer posture, with one glance passed judgement upon us as unworthy....as some of "those people".
I fought back tears in my shame.....I was embarrassed beyond measure - by this time, people in the waiting room were staring at us...trying to get a look at the "freeloaders". I couldn't even look at John....I couldn't bear to see the pain in his face....the pain that I knew full well was there. Mortified and shaking, I started to say "Let's just go home", when the receptionist said with a put upon air "Well, let me call upstairs....sometimes they see the uninsured up there". Thankfully, there was a compassionate person on the other end of the phone, and they agreed to see us (after a very large upfront payment). The Doctor was kind, and Thank You Jesus, nothing was broken, which was miraculous, given my age and the height from which I fell.
Perhaps I should say, no bones were broken...because something in me DID break on Tuesday. My shame and embarrassment turned to anger somewhere around the 3rd of many XRays.
I don't know any person who works harder than my John. He works 6 days a week at his full time job, then does furniture repair on the side. He also mows lawns and anything else he can find to do. He is a person to be admired and respected, because he refuses to let himself be dragged asunder by our circumstances. I too, take as many paying jobs as I can find, in addition to my work at the Church. Acting gigs, singing gigs... whatever pays (and is legal!), well - you can count me in!
I say this, not to elicit sympathy, or pity....but to say, "I'm mad as Hell, and I'm not going to take it any more". Each snide or careless comment or FaceBook post has taken a little chink out of my soul. I only ask, that before you post that Meme about Obamacare.....or go on a two paragraph rant about "those people"....or stand around in a group and loudly discuss those good for nothing folks that don't have insurance, I only ask that you think.....that you see my face, or Johns face, and remember that there, but for the grace of God YOU might go. We never in our wildest imaginings would have dreamed that at our age, and level of education and work experience we would find ourselves in such a spot - but here we are, and here we have been for quite some time.The AFFORDABLE CARE ACT is, at this point, our only hope for insurance.....and it's not just us.....it is millions like us.....hardworking people, trying to do their best with circumstances beyond their control.
So yes....I did break something on Tuesday....and in a way, I am glad. Because I will no longer be ashamed, and afraid that someone might "find out" that we have no insurance. And if you are among my friends or family to post something hateful on FaceBook, or engage in a conversation in my hearing, rest assured that I will be privately sharing with you my point of view. Not in a public forum such as you have used to chip away at my self esteem, but privately and intently. I will defend your right to believe as you choose -I always have, and I always will....but I will no longer stand quietly by and say nothing, as you have a go at "those lazy people", for as my Mama taught me, "By saying and doing nothing....I HAVE said and done something - something contrary to my beliefs".
Thanks be to God, for the mercies of this week....for another chance to Keep on Keepin On.....for "hope, of the sunshine tomorrow, after the showers have gone"......
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