The pooch “helped” me paint yesterday. I am totally re-doing my 2nd bedroom, which currently contains a lot of books, a sewing machine, fabrics and half-finished projects, about a ton of yarn, and maybe a hundred knitting needles. Oh, let’s not forget the ironing board with a pile of “to iron” clothes on it. But now I am going to make it a legit bedroom. I decided to start by painting. I have no idea what ever possessed me to choose pink. I thought it would be soft and warm and pretty. I thought the color was a lot paler than it actually is. Oh well, I have the room half-painted now and will finish it later this week.
My sister is coming to visit next month and I had hoped to put her in the guest room. But my guest room has been taken over by a messy daughter and her messier dog. I thought she would be leaving in September, but she remains here – she has an apartment but can’t move in until November 6. So, I have devised plan B, which I am currently working on (painting the bedroom is the first step).
The State of Colorado is in bad shape. The flooding continues. 17,494 homes have been damaged, 1,502 destroyed altogether. 1,253 people are missing. There are six confirmed deaths. I can’t even find out how many roads are closed, bridges gone, pavement either gone or crumbled. At this point, donations of money are needed. In case you are feeling generous this morning, I have included a link:
We are on the side of a mountain. My concern was that if it got saturated enough, the homes would start sliding down. That has not happened. The park nearby where I have spent so much time, is largely under water. The dam is just about at capacity. I have never seen such a thing. A lot of prairie dogs have lost their homes and probably their lives.
Races that are scheduled for next weekend have been cancelled or postponed. The Denver Triathlon, scheduled for next weekend, has canceled altogether and donated the registration money to the Red Cross.
Yesterday at mass, the wonderful priest gave yet another wonderful homily. The Gospel reading was one of my favorites, about the shepherd who searched for one lost sheep, the woman who searched high and low for one lost coin, and finally, the prodigal son. I have heard many different slants on the prodigal son over the years. But I heard a new one yesterday.
The prodigal goes away, essentially saying to his father that he would rather the father be dead than stay at home for one more day. He wastes all of the money and finds himself destitute. He decides to come home and ask to be treated as a servant rather than a son. Sounds humble, doesn’t it? I heard something new yesterday – he, like us sometimes, wanted to be saved from hunger, but didn’t want to assume the responsibility and burden of being a son. He just wanted to be “good enough,” but not take on the whole sonship, with expectations and responsibilities. And so we are… we just want to be “good enough,” but not really try to be a Saint. I can so relate to this. I feel as though I am a lowly servant of God, but God wants me for his daughter! I need to behave like God’s daughter because I am! Wow!
And this kid of God needs to get to work. This is the first day of my new job assignments. And I need his help!