Thursday, February 22, 2007


For the last number of days, I’ve had a heavy feeling in my chest—like a knot that’s hard to breathe around. I don’t know why, but there it is.

Yesterday morning as I was walking out to my car, I slipped on the ice (which has been gone for weeks, so I didn’t even think to look for it) and fell hard on my knee. It’s bruised and sore, but this morning it’s my hip that hurts from the awkward stretch while falling. I went back inside and iced it—my knee, that is (Emily offered me a band aid—she’s such a sweetheart).

So I was 3 hours late to work. And since my boss is on vacation, I’m buried in contracts. So I stayed until 6:00 last night, trying to catch up some and hoping to avoid the traffic. It didn’t really work; by the time I passed the church on my way home, it was only 30 minutes before the last service for Ash Wednesday.

Now you all know I’m not exactly the most devout Catholic to walk the Earth, but we’ve been going to mass pretty regularly since Emily started going to the school. So yeah. Instead of going home, I went into the church.

It was empty except for the people there for choir practice. I remembered that there was a pope from the 12th or 13th century who outlawed harmony—he considered it sort of “showboating”. But listening to these people practice, I thought “How? How can it be displeasing to god to use the voices he gave us in harmony with each other? Isn’t that sort of the whole message—to live harmoniously?”

And I started to cry.

And I couldn’t stop.

All the way through the service, “from ashes you were made, to ashes you will return”, I couldn’t stop crying.

By that time the building was packed. It was more crowded that it is on a Sunday morning—and this was the 4th service of the day! And I sat way up near the front trying to stop the flood of tears. It didn’t help that all the readings were about death and all the songs were from when I was a kid going to church with my mom, way back in the 70s. The familiarity of the ritual and the nostalgia of the music just... I don't know... I just couldn't catch my breath. I just kept crying.

I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know if it’s gone yet.

I’m scheduled to go to Nor Cal this weekend to do our annual scrapbook extravaganza, but I just learned that my best friend (my Person, for those of you who watch Grey’s Anatomy and get the reference) may not be able to come. Despite months of planning. Her grandmother died this morning and the funeral will scheduled for either Saturday or Monday. But for me, would you all please send up a prayer that they postpone it until Tuesday so I can have a weekend with my girls?

I could really use that right about now.

Her grandmother's funeral has been scheduled for 9:00 Saturday morning. That means she's flying to the midwest tomorrow and will miss our entire weekend together.

How selfish is it of me to be super pissed right now?