Miracles and The Balm of Gilead

Dear Hearts,

“There’s a land of beginning again where skies are always blue. Though we’ve made mistakes, that’s true. Let’s forget the past and start life anew.

Though we wander by a river of tears, where sunshine won’t come through, let’s find that paradise where sorrow can’t live and learn the teachings of forget and forgive--in the land of living again where broken dreams come true.” Bing Crosby The Bells of St. Mary’s

That was my Christmas movie. I still have to watch Abbot and Costello in March of the Wooden Soldiers.

I woke up not evening thinking about it being Christmas day. My first thought was, “Does G-Pa need a painkiller or can I stay in bed later?”

It was later than I thought so he got the Hydrocodone with Acetaminophen. The last pill because his doctor is a Mother Fucker. The doctor and I had some words. I lost my temper badly. I own that. But, he is taking it out on my grandfather by now ignoring our calls. Pre-suprapubic catheter surgery the rule was that if I spoke to him one more time, he would stop treating my grandfather. I accidentally got transferred to him when calling the hospital with a question and he is making my 97-year-old WWII veteran grandfather suffer for his petulance. This will not stand. You don’t mess with G-Pa.

By the Grace of God, the regular Tylenol is cutting the pain, but now he is constipated. Another problem to solve.

That is what is so desiccating about caregiving: every single decision you make is based around another person and his needs. You get up six times during Swedish supper to help G-Pa after he threw up. You go to bed with the doorbell chime on the floor and subconsciously wait for the DINGDINGDINGDONNNNNG. You repeat yourself over and over and over…You love and care for this man, but he can be mean and scrappy. But, he is scared and doesn’t understand all of what is going around him. He doesn’t understand the world he lives in and his body is giving out on him. You remind him to drink water, you dress his wound, give him his pills, give him a full bath (and I do mean everywhere—I only had a problem when I was wiping the feces), you feed them, you always have an ear listening for him.

I love G-Pa. I really do. I resent none of this.

But, I don’t…feel close to G-Pa, not the way I did to Pop, my fraternal grandfather. I would not get into bed with G-Pa and hold him as cries for God to send help. I would have with Pop.

I digress.

Seeing Mom and Dad’s faces this morning on FaceTime—I couldn’t stop touching my dad’s face. I long for his masculinity, his strength, his chest to lay my head upon, his scraggly beard…and I miss Mom’s soft lap and her running her hands through my hair.

It’s not Christmas without being HOME. I waited and opened my Hallmark Holiday Barbie gift from Dad and then I wrapped up Day-To-Night Barbie for myself. Angel had a little stocking with 10 treats and a little mousy.

Aunt Faerie created a beautiful Christmas for us last night. Swedish supper and gifts. And, she is in this with me. I couldn’t do it alone, nor could she.

I don’t think it’s really Christmas for Aunt Faerie without Gram.

I have so many wonderful, truly Blessed, and awe-some memories of Christmas past. It will be like that again one day. I hope.

CHRIST-MAS is about Hope and Redemption. Christ is our Hope.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16

God didn’t “kill” his Son. Christ is God and vice versa. He came to US.

I went to one Mass this month: The Feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary on December 8^th. That was a few days after Burning Bed fired me. Yes, Burning Bed fired me. (I am including a post about that situation at the end of this post.) I have attended Mass several times every week. Not the Mass as The Catechism defines Mass, but I think Pope Francis would approve.

I run.

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. Isaiah 40:31

I talk to God, I feel closer to God, I see the clear big sky over Bergman Park. I run and miss those days I can’t. God is not confined to a wafer. What can be healthier than talking to God and honoring my body? I feel so good afterward.

I didn’t go to Mass last night. I had my Nancy Reagan Dress laid out, but G-Pa was in pain…

I vacillated.

Then it came to me:

WHAT WOULD CHRIST DO?

Now, depending on when you catch me, if you were to ask me that question you would either get an eye-roll and/or a fuck you.

But seriously, what would Christ do? Would Christ leave a scared old man alone and in pain on Christmas Eve. No. No fucking way.

I digress again.

This Holy Day is about Hope and Salvation.

I have to believe God has a plan. I mean, Burning Bed?!

If I were running and the sidewalk disappeared and the next step was the abyss…and I was told, “Take a leap of Faith. Two results: God will either catch you or you will suffer all the pain you’ve had again…I would take the next stop. I really would.

Christ took away the sins of Adam. Mother Mary took away the sins of Eve. Christmas reminds us “nothing is impossible with God.”

I have to hold onto that sentiment. No, that covenant.

All the presents and cards, preparations (will anyone ever care that the table clothes were not ironed this year?), expectations…

It’s the quiet moments. It’s the moments when if we listen—if we close our eyes and just believe with our hearts and block all society out—we believe in the impossible.

My favorite gift this year is a small ceramic statue of Mother Mary kneeling with her hands crossed as in prayer. Aunt Faerie picked it up at a thrift shop for problem nothing. But, that is the gift…

I feel Christ and Mother Mary…

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

German Chocolate Pie

Health

Aunt Faerie’s chocolate “cookie” bars

Family

Faith

All those who love me and whom I love

Angel

Coffee

Cigarettes

All my blessings
The young lady who shoveled for me
FaceTime

PS: I have no idea if this post is as profound as I hoped or even articulate. But, I did it.

Now it is Coffee Hour!

There is a land of beginning again. There has to be. Humanity couldn’t have made it this far without…

Many scoffed and didn't believe--but "You must pray and keep on praying...God's Will be done...And may God's will be our will...More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of...therefore let our voice rise like a fountain night and day."

The Sun revolved around the Earth until it didn't. 

Christ, I am open to you. I am your vessel. I give it all up to Thee.

*********************************************************************************

December 17, 2016—iPad propped up in cowboy hat and portable keyboard on my lap

“I have measured out my  life with coffee spoons.” Eliot

I feel like I measure out my life in hours.

I have an hour at the Garden Café from 3 p.m. To 4 p.m. While G-Pa is at Aunt Faerie’s concert to myself. I have an hour to enjoy my Sacred Coffee and Cigarettes before I have to pick G-Pa up form Aunt Faerie’s. I have an hour before Aunt Faerie picks us up for pie. I have an hour to watch one of my TV shows and get to bed around 11 p.m.

This, from the woman who never wore a watch outside of work.

“It takes time to live.” Jungle

How much time does it take to REALLY fucking live? I mean like really fucking suck the marrow-out-of-life living?

More energy and time than I can muster…

“We can no longer utilize you in the front office.”

Translation: You’re fired. Your best isn’t good enough. You are not wanted here. I just don’t fucking like you because…

Yep. I got fired from first job. Burning Bed. Tonya, my supervisor on whom I wrote such a stellar recommendation fired me.

“But we still want you involved with Burning Bed and volunteering.”

A job I loved—until recently when the politics were worthy of Chicago and Albany. Did my lack of “please, please, help me, Tonya?” Do me in. She wanted me out. She wrote an unfair evaluation. I am GREAT with clients and all the staff love me but the staff also complains about me all the time and I just can’t do the job.

“Okay, I understand.”

Grabbing my Lysol (that stuff is expensive) from the front office, “Do you have everything of yours?” asked the Front Desk.

Wow. Everybody fucking knows already. And I was literally fired 20 seconds ago.

Thursday: I am on the three-month shift cover schedule

Thursday: I turn in my evaluations

Friday: Tonya asks me about the Christmas party—am I going?

Monday: I am fired.

Tuesday: Can you help transport a client?

Friday: The ED (Executive Director) says that if I had been working for him he wouldn’t have fired me and if I continue to volunteer at Burning Bed he will find me a job. “I promise.”

Big Breath.

Fuck you. Fuck you and the sweet mother of fucking horse you rode in on. Kiss my white ass on the crack, motherfucker.

ED (executive director or erectile dysfunction….just saying both ED…maybe I taught high school too long.)

ED, I know down and dirty school politics. I know that administrators will smile at you and makes the promises you want to..you need to hear…and then fuck up the ass while they are doing it.

ED—you can’t override your own staff, even you tell me that you, yourself were shocked with Tonya said I couldn’t do the job.

I have cried. Wailed. Hyperventilated. Mourned. Felt physical pain. Cried to God. Tried to logically figure it out…

I have been running. And part of my run is when I reach my turn-around spot in Bergman Park. (When I was little and not yet crushed by life, there was old this old wooden playground set in Troll Park. There was a bridge and Aunt Faerie and I would pretend that a troll was under the bridge. If only trolls were my biggest threat.) I walk diagonally across the park before I run home. If I fucking stop near the road to catch my breath, people fucking are stopping to make sure I’m okay. Geez. Can’t you just leave people alone? So, I have taken to walking across the park where people are less able to stop their cars and get all in business. I turn and look at the horizon. It’s fucking flat. You can see a lot more sky than you can see in the East.

I was working at BB (my hour is almost up) and set to have my future there. Perhaps, likely beloved mountains on the East Coast, having that job at BB was like a mountain obstructing my view of the sky. Now that BB is over, maybe I will see something in the sky that I would have otherwise not have noticed. Maybe it will be a shooting star.

I just feel sad tonight.

Fuck me once, shame on you. Fuck me twice, shame on me. I’m talking to you, Burning Bed.

The Woman with the Wolf tattoo—she doesn’t ALLOW herself to get fucked twice.