13 July 2017

I was blessed today, and I am full of gratitude.

A woman I care for invited me to write. I wrote.

That woman I care for asked to know of my day. At the end of day, I wrote again.

What more can I call a blessing? There is more.

A dear friend who cares for me asked about my family. I barely told her – and i welcome telling her more. I am learning of her family in some detail – what a gift she brings in the telling.

I man I may have known for many lives asked about my father, the lion, the hero of my life. What a blessing to share my awe in his power and silliness and strength. It felt like Dad was here.

And, chronologically:
I woke reflectful, prayerful, in a blessed place called my sister’s family.
I sat in the morning sun (then the morning shade) to reflect on my feelings without filter – okay in writing, which must by definition be filtered.

I considered getting a tattoo. I am not going to tell anyone, other than my sister. But it seems the right thing now. Or next year.

I met with my stepmother. We apparently are in love with the same man still, even after death. But we are no longer in any competition for his affection. (Okay, I know how that sounds, but that is your problem – not mine, or Dad’s, or hers.) What a wonderful afternoon. She is really tough, really real, really unreal. And I like her sense of boundaries; i hope Dad crossed them as successfully as he was gentle. (His gentleness with humor is a gift I hope to never lose – if I have it, and I do have it.)

I had a fight with my sister – as we usually or used to do. We agreed in contradiction until we decided to stop agreeing. Then we got it. We both care, I am often less forsightful, and she knows firmly what she percieves as limits. I then find a way that meets the worry – avoids her worry. And we are always good, always trusting of the other. After all, she kicked the ass of one of my bullies – she protects, she is fiercer than me, she is gentler than me. And she is who i have left …

I visited my in-laws. Warm and awkward. Okay. I really enjoy John. I also enjoy Margaret, but with some distrust. I bring baggage – MY baggage to the visit, and then try to hide it. Yuk that I do that. GOOD: I don’t over share. SURPRISE: they are not prepared to house me, it seems. Just my wife and daughter (yes, the labels apply, still). What does it mean that my in-laws do not expect me to stay with my wife and daughther? Transition? … leaving that right there.

The “dinner train” of families providing food for my sister’s family is a staple – usual, here. Not usual in other parts of the US; maybe a miracle of Ann’s connectivity. Families do this for others. REALLY, they do. What an amazing blessing.

…NOT FACT … just what I understand:
Dr. Ann’s colleagues pooled funds to hire a maid service for Ann’s family since her illness, and this continuues this week and beyond. How long? No matter. WOW! People do this for others – as my grandfather did in his day. Connection, community, companionship is as real as every. The internet, the peak experience, the immediate redemption seems less real than the care of locals. Do I have that – yes, but this seems worth remarking – REMARKABLE.

My sister’s family shares their feelings, and nobody feels worse for it. My feelings do not hurt your feelings. My titilation in another amazing human does not betray my friendship for you. My nephew says what he feels; my niece asks for cuddles without expectation. Giggles happen. Tears flow. My sister’s house is the Camino, the micro-Camino. Family as we know in our souls.

Being willing to receive is one key. Giving is the other. Why is that so hard? Because we still long, still desire, still judge. My Camino friend asks for this summary of my day. I am so blessed. My other Camino friends ask to know me more. Okay, this is all about meeeee. I need to mature in my writing; my joy; my pain.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, movie with the kids. Some good wine. Then this self-centered summary – but it is MY day’s summary.

 

Not self-centered: (really?)
What a flood of memories can be attached to sharing the touch of items inherited.
Wonderful the tasted of gifted meals.
Sensuous the feeling of being asked to share, to know one is listening.
Powerfully emotional the nightly rosary, shared.

 

How annoying is it to read what one writes only for themselves? Even if you love them, does this rise to the bar of bullshit? Or can one make available the space to listen, as I may be capable to do? What if I am full of shit – who deserves to pause for that? What if I am ready to be enlightened – who has patience to encourage? time to deny self; to feel undeserving; to restore hope for tomorrow’s duty as redeeming.

I recall the surprise of walking across the square, intending to be welcoming to newly arrived, when i saw the lovely Pilgrim ready to return home. Her surprise was formidable, but did not surpass mine. I could not resist the smile of serendipity. Not smug – accepting that this was unavoidable, and therefore good. Today was like that day – absent Rusty.