Patched Up and Still Marching

Sorry I was MIA a few days . . . although I was skipping among the blogs I like and commenting, I was still around, just not here as much. Even I am at some loss as to a reasonable reason, but I can say it was largely hormonal. In those cases, I tend to withdraw to save myself the trouble of apologizing later for words better left unsaid and actions better left undone. Also, I need to go to Confession . . . and I am working on my examination of conscience lately. It's grueling work, but it meets a gratifying end.

What have I been doing? Reading. And thinking about the absolute final stitches on that decade old project for Crickles. Just need to put on his name, d.o.b., and weight. What's keeping me? The dern reading, of course. I was so pleased with myself for having learned and executed the French Knot, I laid it aside in some strange "victory" . . . all to not actually finish it so there's no victory - YET. Maybe today I'll bother with it. I will show a picture of it sans his personal information soon. Another distraction: physical appointments for the children so they can register for school (next weeks pet project). Fortunately, because we are getting a house other than where we originally wanted, the schools changed and there are no entrance exams. I did find out that my younger two definitely have uniforms. The girl was hoping against it, but seemed okay with it once she had the facts. She's so much like me in that way. I will rebel a bit, but cave to the rules.

I'm missing life and friends in Maryland and, yet, enjoying the slower pace of this tropical island that almost daily I say to myself, "I can't believe I'm in Hawaii" like an idiot.

I'm praying for friends (real life as well as blogging) who have recently miscarried. I know this is probably an awful thing to say, but I am thankful I have also lost one so that I do know what they are going through. There's nothing callous in those words, just all heart and love. I lost my first. When that happened all I could think about was how a high school friend and I happened into each other at West Lake in Seattle after I had purchased some gender-neutral clothes, because I just knew everything was going to be okay. She said to me, "I'm not trying to ruin your happiness, but you do know that statistically most women lose their first child?" No, I did not know that. I did not need to know that. I just need to know that I love my kid.

So, every time I read or hear of someones heartbreak, I revisit my own. And, when I do, I think also upon the decision that we made as a couple after our third was born to make it impossible, short of a miracle, to ever have another.

So, my motto will always be: Don't judge; just love. Just love.

And, I do.

Perhaps too much, but then when I begin thinking like that, fancying myself a most tragically romantic woman, I fail to see the greatest love of all: Christ. I'm brought to my knees in my awareness of His love for me. For us.

I lie prostrate and very humbled.

His love MUST conquer and MUST abide in me . . . or how could I love so passionately all He has created before me, with me, along side me, after me? I must surrender all.

I'm so willing to surrender. Even if it is hard.

Mary, Mother of God, ora pro nobis.