There too, but for the Grace of God,Go I

A few years ago my friend, Melina, and I were discussing women from some depressed culture--I don't remember but it may have been toothless, cacao chewing, Columbian women or flood victims in a foreign country and Melina looked at me and said, "There too, but for the grace of God." Amen, sister. Amen.

Today I came into town to have a new windshield installed and to attend my step-Granny's funeral.  I met my daughter, Eli and her friend, Erica, at Olive Garden for lunch. As I walked toward the entrance to the restaurant, I saw a woman collapse or more realistically I watched as she disappeared from view and then realized she was on the ground, face down, with pasta and kidney beans scattered all around her. I rushed over and asked if I could help but the woman wasn't coherent enough to respond at the moment. A manager also came out to assist and ran back inside to call an ambulance. I couldn't tell if she had fainted or had a stroke or was just, already, falling down drunk on New Year's Eve.

As it turns out, judging by her breath, the bottle rattling in her bag and her insistence that she was, "Shit," it was the latter. She told the manager that she'd been drinking since early morning because no one loved her and she didn't have anywhere to go. The bottle in her bag was one she had swiped off the shelf on her way out of Olive Garden. 

Once we had her settled on a bench and second staff member came out, I excused myself and went to find the girls.

We had a nice lunch but my mind kept going back to the woman out front. Why? What was going on in her life that she was alone, falling down drunk at 11:30 am on New Year's Eve? On the way out the door I asked the young man at the host station about her and he said that she was outside in an ambulance and that was the only thing keeping her from driving off in her car. The officers standing by the ambulance were waiting for someone to pick her up and, bless them, I don't think anyone gave her a ticket or charged her with theft.

When I got into my van, with it's newly-installed windshield, I just sat there for moment pondering my life. I've been depressed recently. Sad. Tired. Bummed with life. Me! Me with 5 great, no WONDERFUL kids and a husband who, though he may be disconnected and out of touch with his family, is also stable, hard-working, and he loves me. I have enough of everything and an abundance of almost everything. What on earth do I have to be depressed about? There too, but for the grace of God, go I.

note about depression: I get it. It's supposed to be a chemical imbalance. I read the pamphlet.

Merry Christmas!

It's Christmas Eve. The gifts are wrapped. The little one is in the bathtub. Mark is smoking a Boston Butt, from a small PA hog farm. I made bean soup, used 3 rolls of tape and 4 of gift wrap and am now spending a few moments of lull time at the computer.
There is a backlog of blog posts I'll get to after Christmas--1 about how Martina's stuffed reindeer, Prancer, made the sleigh team, 1 about the new goat, 1 about the old dog we found, a few about cool things the kids have been up to. For now I am planning on pouring a glass of wine and then another and another, eating beans and butt hehe and enjoying the evening with our kids, all FIVE of them here for the night. We will take a jar full of all our pocket change and leave it in the manger with Baby Jesus at the church up the road--our nod to the roots of our holiday tradition. We will exchange gifts with one another. We will be quiet. Maybe Randall will play some music for us. Maybe Travis will sing Feliz Navidad.
Tomorrow Santa rules the day. He will visit sometime tonight and leave a few small gifts for the children and hopefully drop Prancer off after her debut leading the team. We will visit Dad and enjoy his big, Victorian Christmas celebration complete with too many gifts and a turkey dinner. Then on to Mom's, my ex's house for a little socializing and then an exhausted fall back into our haven where we will put up our feet, sigh and enjoy the feeling of exhaustion peace that descends at dusk on Christmas Day.

Solstice Song

A beautiful song and beautiful images by Lisa Thiel.

In the Spirit of Christmas

A Christmas Prayer
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Loving Father,
Help us remember the birth of Jesus,
that we may share in the song of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
and worship of the wise men.

Close the door of hate
and open the door of love all over the world.
Let kindness come with every gift
and good desires with every greeting.
Deliver us from evil by the blessing
which Christ brings,
and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.

May the Christmas morning
make us happy to be thy children,
and Christmas evening bring us to our beds
with grateful thoughts,
forgiving and forgiven,
for Jesus' sake.

Amen.

“The South is a place…the North is just a direction out of the South” – Roy Blount Jr.

My awesome son and some of his classmates did this website as part of an assignment.

Church

A little over a week ago I told Martina 'The Christmas Story' at bedtime. She's heard it every Christmas but this year she was taken by it and asked several questions. I eventually told her that if she'd like to try going to church we could. She did. We did.

Last Sunday we attended a service at en Episcopal Church in Gatesville. The church is tiny. The congregation is tiny. They don't even have a preacher. I must admit that I am awed by the conviction and dedication of the congregants in this small, rural place who manage to hold a church by sheer stubbornness. Some of the churches here share a pastor who may preach to as many as three congregations on a Sunday. The church we attended is led by parishioners who take on the responsibilities of leading the services and even of reading a sermon. It is humbling to know that there are people whose faith is so strong that they are willing to do these things in order to hold their church family together.

So far as our experience went--Martina liked the praying and talking but not the sitting and listening. I found the people there to be pleasant and welcoming. Still, to be certain Martina gets a true feel for what a more average church is like, we'll head north to a more densely populated area and visit a church with a pastor next time. I can barely wait.