Musings and Other Stuff

The Emerging Fraternity is getting it's Pastoral Visit this weekend. We are praying that we get the approval to become a full-fledged fraternity. I was going to say "hope against hope" instead of prayer because it is rare, if not unheard of, that an E. F. becomes a full-fledged fraternity after the first pastoral visit, not because I don't think we're not prepared or ready to become one. In fact, I think we're unusually prepared and ahead of the game, and are blessed with some phenomenal people to make the E.F. as strong as it is. But from all accounts for an E.F. to become a full fraternity at the first pastoral visit is pretty much unheard of. But we can certainly all pray for it!

It has been wacky and weird and very busy. The weirdest is the most recent--reconnecting with an ex-boyfriend from 15 years ago. Right now it's a lot of "OMG LOL What have you been doing all these years!!eleventyone!!1!1!!1!" If he gets into that breakup from when we were pretty much kids, I'm going to say "B, this was 15 years ago, I'm so past it!" It remains to be seen if I have a friend on the other end of the line. :)

The semester is racing to its close and I have an impossible paper for one class that has nothing to do with the content of the class--it actually has to do more with a class that is being offered next semester by another instructor. Research papers do not scare me; I can write them in my sleep. But the content the instructor wants is unfamiliar to me and I'm skeptical that I can write something I know next to nothing about. I have pulled magic out of my butt before, soo....

It is the Feast of All Saints, which marks November. November means the beginning of the holiday season, which is something I have mixed feelings about. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do, and I suspect the back of my mind is made up: I'm thinking of making the executive decision to decline any events for my side of the family. After last year's fiasco, and other crap in the interim, I'm pretty much done. It's going to hurt Dad, but I'll talk with him first before I make any firm decision.

Moseying Along

It's been quiet but it's been busy. My cousin, who has returned from Iraq, will be coming through town this next weekend. I haven't seen her since my wedding five years ago.

School ramps back up next week, catechism at the end of the month, St Vincent de Paul, and all that stuff.

I'm going to do something else, too: I am going to take tap lessons. Always a fan of Gene Kelly, I was watching his clips on YouTube. I asked myself, "why not?" and then I grumbled to myself: I should have done this when I was in the Forest Service, with all that downtime during the winters... sheesh, I lost all that time. So, I'm taking a class offered by the city. It will be as Bonnie Franklin titled her tap tape back in the 80's: I hate to exercise, but I love to tap. It will also be a help, I think, with my knees, help to build the muscle back in my legs so that I continue to stave off knee problems.

Go me!

I love late night bombshells

I checked my email before heading to bed last night and this is what I read:

"...S has called it quits on me and I am devastated... he’s gonna be moving away from [their daughter] and I very soon. He’ll be moving... once he’s discharged from the military on a medical basis. He’s had much stress with not knowing what’s going on with his health and career that I don’t think he’s making this decision based upon just us... Love is just not enough sometimes, I guess… [...] He’s pretty set in his decision though and the he wants me to start the paperwork for divorce while he’s away. I am just so torn about this… I hope that I didn’t unload on you too much."

I sat there stunned. My dear friend D is so sweet and this has obviously left her stunned, and from what else I read in this email this came out of left field. This was the pair that had fallen in love instantaneously, were so sweet and perfect together, the birth of their baby daughter the event of the year. S had pontificated before and after they were married about how he'll never abandon his family as his was, have the dysfunctional family his was, how he'll make sure that D and their daughter will want for nothing, that D was the sunshine of his life and he was so devoted to her. And he was, and everything was beautiful. I have to wonder what the medical issue is--he was fine last time I heard, so I wonder if it was something sudden because he was happy and doing well in the Air Force. There was no warning. Something is going on here.

I told TJ and he was astonished as well. He really liked S, had good vibes about him, and enjoyed his company. So it's not just me thinking that S had come across as true-blue and all that. He, too, thinks there's something else going on. Not cheating, because that's not the vibe I'm getting. Something less superficial, methinks.

So as soon as D gets back from out of town, I'll meet up with her and the first thing I'm going to do is give her a big hug, and I suspect that she'll crack and cry uncontrollably. The poor girl.

As my brain was full after reading this, I didn't get to sleep until midnight-thirty or so, and of course I'm wide awake at 5 a.m. this morning, and at work by 7. Yuck.

Please pray for D and her 18 month old daughter C... and that S will come to his senses and change his mind about walking away from his wife and daughter.

Life Adjustments

It is already the first Sunday in advent. It's December, already, for crying out loud. Unbelievable. Where has the time gone?

It is the time of year where everyone scurries, where tempers get short and many folks pretty much need therapy by the time December 26th rolls around. However, as I told one of my readers-under-the-radar this week, the only thing that exceeds the majesty of Christmas for me is the Triduum of Easter. But it's close.

I can't think of Christmas without thinking of the greatest loss: Mom.

My poor dear late Mother was in love with Christmas. It was her time of year, the time of year she enjoyed and shined. The decoration boxes would be dragged out before Thanksgiving, and the tree would not come down until mid-January, dessicated and ready to burn. The party every year took eight weeks to plan, and the house was full every year with old and new friends--invitations were coveted. She loved Christmas shopping, taking care to find *the* present, selected with care and love. She and I would meet at AJs or at the Coffee Plantation an commisserate on our plan of attack for the holidays. She baked and baked, cooked and cooked. Everyone from Dad to my nine year old nephew has their own personalized stocking that hung along the divider of the entryway.

The house had two Christmas trees: the formal one was in the front room, every year a little different, and involved moving the big couch and the 75 year old grand piano. One year it was white and gold, the next red and white, the following year green and blue, etc etc. The other one was always in the living room--a big furniture move for that which always made Dad sigh--always multicolored with all sorts of ornaments and colors. When I asked her why she had the two trees, she replied that she would never see a tree because she was always in the kitchen, so she put one where she could see it. There were mini trees everywhere--on the pass-through, in the bathrooms, in the back yard, you name it.

She always had thousands of mini-lights in the front yard. This was contagious to the point that I would be the one putting them up and her directing (and now I put thousands of lights in my yard too--I am the Light Queen). I'm not talking about those silly traffic-glutting showcases: just the little lights all over the plum tree, the pine tree, the privet hedges, the bogainvillea. A very simple beauty. The only anomaly was that the frame of the house had the C-7 lights--but the little lights look silly there. Mom despised the icicle lights and refused to buy them.

The backyard was similarly lit. The trellis outside the living room window for years were gold lights, then eventually were always white. The oleanders had white lights and colored lights; the volunteer mulberry tree was in white also, sometimes with those mini-light hanging balls swaying in the cool night breeze. The oleys and all the trees created a canopy and I had a great time making it starry every year. TJ said once that it was like dining on a patio in an Italian restaurant with all the twinkling lights.

There was always a fire in her chiminea or in her firepit, burning wood and paper. That smell out there was just so Mom, her making up for the fact she had no fireplace. No matter, she'd have one outside instead.

So, the other night when TJ and I dropped by to say hi to Dad, it was a little strange. My #2 brother had dug into the closet and pulled out some of the little lights (or bought a couple of strings) and strung them sloppily along the privets and along the roof. Unremarkable. It was uncharacteristically dark and not a little sad. I wish I had the time to go over and put more up.

In the house, there were no stockings; no little gold reindeer along the big bookcase in the front room, no multi lights on the sideboard to reflect off of the silver. No nativity at the base of the tree that was obtained--a tree bought much too early (it was always a major production to decide what day we would get the trees, because the furnace would crisp them by Christmas Eve if it was bought too early). No lavish handmade centerpieces on all tables. No tea andles on the divider in their clear red votives. No series of pine wreaths lovingly handmade with boughs snitched from the tree sellers, adorned with the big pressed bright red bows. No big gold jingle bells hanging from the front and back doors to merrily announce every entry and exit.

The weird thing I couldn't place until later was that there wasn't any Christmas music playing. Mom had them playing 24/7 as soon as the local radio station started every year at Thanksgiving, in every room. It was almost deathly quiet in the house except for the TV.

So quiet, so dark, Mom's characteristic mark on the house there no longer, though her presence is still there. Always there.

Dad is going to put together a small Christmas party when the out-of-state kids are home--the 23rd, not really a good day to do that as it's Christmas Eve eve. However, he has no idea how to do it. He thinks he can call a couple of days before and they'll show. Calling is not a bad thing--there was always the "Core Group" of every Christmas party, and those are the people that he's inviting and who will more than likely come. Written invites are better, but that's just not his way. I told him that he need to do it by the end of this week.

He also mentioned that he needs to do Christmas shopping. That would be a first for him, and he admitted it. "Your mother always did that--I shopped for her only." He is debating gag gifts, which I think would be fantastic... I'd love to see it. I think we all should do gag gifts. :)

The best part of it is that Dad is functioning in that realm. I am encouraged that he is ready to entertain and socialize--a good mark of healing. Mama died three months short of their 50th anniversary, and I can still see the gaps in Dad's heart in his eyes. But he's emerging from that grief, finally.

But there is a big hole in the atmosphere at the folks' house, this first Christmas after Mom's death. Christmas Eve will not be as festive ever again. Things are not the same at all, and my eyes tear up at the thought. I realize that this is a part of life, one of those life adjustments that everyone goes through, but my first thought as my dad, my brothers, and my husband and I stood by Mama's body right after she passed was "Christmas is going to suck."

I need to remember to take a little Christmas tree to her grave this weekend. I should take Daddy with me.

It will be a sad and strange Christmas.

God, I miss her so badly right now.