My title paraphrases someone, I am not sure who. So apologies to whoever it is. When I sit down to write every morning, I ask myself what the point is. There was a time when I thought my blog (not this one) was helpful to some and therefore worth writing. I have no such illusions with this blog. This one is for me. As an introvert, I “process” alone. Writing is a great way for me to do so. So – goofy as that is – I am “processing” alone – and post it for the world to read. Sometimes I still get shocked and hurt that people would read about my guts hanging all over the place and criticize. But I have vowed not to let that bother me with this blog, so I shan’t!
Yesterday I did a half marathon at a ridiculous altitude in scorching heat. I have never seen such heat at such elevations. I am sunburnt to a crisp. I have a semi-permanent red outline of my dress on my body – including that little keyhole feature on the neckline. I did not train for this race, and I felt that at about 5 miles. And then I had 8 more to go. The last 2 were murder. I was moaning! My 26 year old friend was starting to worry about me – as well she should have! I can barely walk this morning. I have a friend with terrible hips (has had them replaced and uses a cane) and every time I walk, I am pretty sure I am walking just like her. Thank God it is temporary (or is it?)
In the afternoon yesterday, my phone rang. By the time I got to it, I had missed the call. It was my next door neighbor – the one who is a dear friend to me. I thought I would call her back in a minute and then the phone rang again. By the time I got to the phone, I had missed the call – it was my neighbor again. She is not the “calling” type, so I knew something was up. I called her back and discovered she is in the hospital and needed me to take care of her cat and some things inside of her house. Now, I am thrilled to be able to do something for her – which is a rare thing. But I really want her home and well. The world doesn’t feel right without her next door.
She is one of those super-strong women – so unlike me. She changes her own oil, brakes, transmission, whatever. She gets on ladders with chainsaws. She has a full red Craftsman toolbox (the kind on wheels) in her garage – which is immaculate. The thought of her laying in a hospital bed is almost more than I can bear. To me, it sounds like she has had a mild stroke. But I am the person with just enough knowledge to be dangerous. And I did not say one word about my “diagnosis” to her. I pray she is back home today and that whatever happened yesterday was just some kind of scare and not a real, life-changing event.
I need to get in the tub and get gussied up to go to Mass this morning at 6:30. Then I will go to my home group at 7:30 and will probably be a minute or so late – and therefore will not have a good seat. There are actually peanut gallery seats there that are so bad I am normally willing to arrive a half-hour early to avoid. But I have too much stuff to do this morning, so if I need to sit out in the hall, I will.
Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns ,and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the filed, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. — Matthew 6:25-29