I had no idea that this song even existed. Pretty amazing.
Stay me with enchiladas, comfort me with sour cream, for I am depleted by motherly concern. [With apologies to Solomon and his Song (2:5), which we never, ever discuss in Gospel Doctrine class; I’m guessing it falls neatly under the “as far as it is translated correctly” part of the Eighth Article of Faith.] I had a lovely long talk with one of my girls yesterday; I need to have one with another.
It is not the girls themselves who are wearying, nor the fact that they are each struggling with mighty challenges; it is, I think, what the Savior was talking about when the woman touched the hem of His robe in order to be healed, and He felt virtue flow through Him and out into her. I am an ordinary mortal, trying to live the commandments to the best of my understanding and abilities. Most of my contact with the Spirit comes in quick flashes and promptings, not in extended conversations where I open my mouth and He gives me the words to speak.
The flashes and promptings go onto my honey-do list; they take nothing out of me. But the moments when I know that I am speaking Truth, rather than just hoping that I am, those leave me spent.
Yesterday was a very good day; I got all four of the temporal items checked off my list [fed the elders, voted in the local election, picked up the filing cabinet and the spinning wheel], *and* my nails done. Dinner with Brother Sushi last night was everything I could have wished. Good food, and plenty of it. He unloaded my new filing cabinet out of the back seat of Lorelai.
We traded stories. And as he was letting me back into his pickup, I asked him to scratch a spot on my back that I cannot easily reach.
Back-scratching is a very intimate thing. I am nearly as picky about who gets to scratch my back [notwithstanding the layers and layers of clothing between the scratcher’s hand and my epidermis] as I am about who gets to touch my bare feet [which is basically nobody, thank you very much; I don’t do pedicures though I probably should]. LittleBit is the best back-scratcher in the immediate family. She knows just where the itches or tension are lurking, and she has the strength to push and dig until the itch or pain goes away.
LittleBit, unfortunately, was at work when the Itch Fairy attacked my left shoulder blade last night. Brother Sushi was an excellent substitute. I went into dinner tired, hungry, sleepy, and for lack of a better word, fraught. After I hugged him goodnight, I was replete and listened-to and non-itchy.
Look what I noticed sitting on top of an unused desk when I walked down the hall to kick off my shoes.
It’s been in this box since 1991. Just waiting for me.
A small and vibrant piece of myself that I needed to set aside for awhile. And now it’s time to pick it up again.
Have a blessed and peaceful Sabbath, everyone. I had hoped to attend sacrament meeting in my future ward, just to make contact with the bishop and the high priest group leader and the Relief Society president, and then come back here for my meetings, but I did not get out after dinner last night to tank Lorelai. I have enough gas to get to church and home, and to the gas station in the morning. So that will have to wait until next Sunday.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!