This blog was meant to help
me sift through the mundane of my life in an effort to glimpse, name, and enjoy
the intertwining, often hidden but miraculous nuggets of light that bring
healing, enlightenment, joy, release, hope, or sustenance. Lately, however, I
have been up to my armpits in a mire of sticky self-pity that threatens to suck
the happiness and appreciation for life right out of me; so I’m going back to a
basic litany (God bless my Catholic roots) of appreciation in order to get back
on track. Please excuse the slightly ironic tone, but the humor does me good.
God bless Annie, who takes
care of Mom when I have errands and whose recent two week absence was a painful
reminder of the importance of back-up relief.
God bless Mom’s failing
short-term memory. The repetition gets annoying, but there is a definite grace
in having second and third chances to say or do something better.
God bless the unrelenting
demands and furniture- and finger-endangering wild games of pets; for their
antics lighten the load, their evident appreciation of us is satisfying, and
their snuggling extends a blanket of peace.
God bless our veterinarian,
who not only treats our pets, but is also sensitive to my state of mind as
well. Who knew that his doctorate also seemed to cover detecting the acrid
scent of imminent emotional implosion so that he could adroitly turn the
conversation from cat lice to “How are
you doing with Mom?” and really care about the answer?
God bless the stray pets who
post “Easy Target” signs that point to our house as an inn that welcomes
everyone; especially the cats who use our premises as a love nest when in heat.
God bless Mom, who is
oblivious to the steady drag of time while she concentrates so hard on making
sure that she puts deodorant on at least three times when getting ready in the
morning and who increases my prayer life as I think to myself during
transfers: For the love of GOD! PLEASE… take…a...STEP!
God bless God, who sometimes
gives me exactly what I want and then watches with muffled snickering while I wrestle
with the idiocy of my self-inflicted predicament and relearn the concepts of
humility and letting go.
God bless children who call,
text, Skype, or pop in at just the right moment with their boundless,
optimistic energy to turn our static, “old-farts world” upside down just long
enough to get the blood flowing and then set us aright again before sailing out
on the next high tide.
God bless scheming friends who
talk me into midnight hot-tub dates if that’s the only time I can get away, cook
shrimp for lunch rather than go out, listen without judgment, and keep me
laughing, for they make me feel less alone.
God bless everyone in my
household who can take care of themselves without noticeable spitting, farting,
or grunting.
God bless Mom, who renews my
spirit whenever she smiles or laughs.
And
God bless Annie again, who is moving away in August, which will undoubtedly be followed
closely by another implosion on my part.
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