Wednesday, May 25, 2005

A step out of time

Image hosted by Photobucket.com28 years ago today, I got the call: he was born. Struggling in, not doing the expected, causing a panic, he made a Big Deal, just as he did all his life. We brought him home three days later, after almost losing him the same morning when the young woman who gave birth to him changed her mind (and who could possibly blame her?), then decided once again to allow us to have him. It was the beginning of jubilation and tribulation for us. No one ever changed us like Jeremy.

I can't retell his life story now; I've done it so many times and will again and again and yet again. He lived extraordinarily. Right now I am just remembering him, not as though I ever forget for a moment the baby and boy and man who was my son, but to honor our years together. 28 years ago today, he was born. Three days later, I became his mother. Two years ago last March, on that glorious Spring day in the most achingly beautiful of places, he literally stepped out of Earthly time.

There is a time for every purpose under Heaven, as the poet-king said, and Jeremy had his. Mine is still here, and today I touch every emotion known to me. Mostly I miss him profoundly--not wishing him back to pain and all that was his lot here, but just missing him.

Just missing him.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Next Saturday night, I'm...

Last Saturday was the debut of Greg Hyde and LivingRoom, as we opened for and backed up Joan Enguita. This week we get to do the same for David Zink. And now we've even got a slick poster and the first ever mention, by name, of LivingRoom! Woot!



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Sunday, May 22, 2005

Hurrying

Ramming, jostling, dropping stuff, spilling coffee down my brand new chinos, leaving piles behind me, forgetting vital information, losing to-do lists, arriving late, tripping over my feet, dumping my water bottle into my purse, missing deadlines, misplacing my keys, forgetting names, forgetting my own name. Writing fragmented sentences and not caring.

Monday, May 09, 2005

Grace for the ordinary

Mother's Day: glowing card from Himself along with a generous gift certif to my favorite music store; special breakfast at church followed by special speaker and even more special invitation for me to lead a missions team to Romania in July '06 for a youth camp; stop at aforesaid store to spend my windfall; invitation to dinner by friends; surprise lovely remembrance from my not-so-demonstrative daughter; outing to see a good flick (Kingdom of Heaven, my own review to follow); good Pinot Noir and rich conversation at home. Short of having Jeremy here in the flesh, what could be better?

Monday: Sub instructor (sub in more ways than one) in exercise class. Frustrating voice mail limbo to find out why florist forgot Mother's Day balloon for MiL. Dirty bathroom. Dead flowers. Waiting for phone call from doc's office (which never came). Vacuuming. Plugged bathtub drain. All junk mail. Too tired to go to the supermarket. Clutter everywhere I look. Church directory not done yet. Two bags each recycling and trash to go out. Cracked cuticles. Can't remember the chords to a song I need to practice for coffeehouse; need to work it out again and this time remember to write the chords out. Must burn practice CD for Himself's worship team, but can't until I buy the songs and remember where I put the rest. Need to start losing weight again. Must fill out passport app for the Romania trip--already did it twice, but can't recall what I did with them. Once more, there's mold growing on the bathroom ceiling; must get out the bleach. Gack. It's my least favorite household task. Reminder that I haven't started the business yet, and every day is one step farther away. Inertia threatens.

There is grace for the dull, blah, definitely un-fun days.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Everybody knows, part 2

Everybody knows that if you are a born-again Christian who attends church regularly, you always vote Republican and support whatever the President says.

Everybody knows that if you adamantly believe that unborn children should breathe and not be snuffed out before their opportunity to live on this Earth, you automatically vote Republican and expect the President to move Congress and the Senate to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Everybody knows that if you are grateful to the military for protecting your right to live in a free country, and get choked up when you hear "God Bless America" sung, you certainly are a dyed-in-the-wool Republican, and the President's picture is probably on a card in your wallet.

Ummm hmmm. Uncontested, iron-clad truth.

Next?

Everybody knows

Everybody knows that if you like The Beatles, folk, New Age, or Celtic music, you vote Democrat and hate the President.

Everybody knows that if you recycle paper, cans, and glass, you vote Democrat and hate the President.

Everybody knows that if you wear Birkenstocks; have long hair and multiple piercings; and own a shelf of vegetarian cookbooks, you vote Democrat and hate the President.

Everybody knows that if you read original poetry at coffeehouse open mic nights; think John Steinbeck was a great writer; and enjoy watching documentaries and foreign films, you vote Democrat and hate the President.

Of course you do. It's an established fact.

Everybody
knows that.

Right?