Our community theater is performing the stage version of the ultimate Christmas classic movie. I'm sure we won't even come close to the original, but I pray we can capture the spirit.
In a "art imitating life" fashion, my husband is playing George, and I've been cast as Mary.
Feeling the pain of lost relationships, but knowing that there is really only one relationship that matters, trying and failing (again) to do my best and experience "success," today I wrote this.
A repost from last year. This year, I'm Mary instead of Maxine. But life is still just as horrible and wonderful - and worth living - as it was then.
Today, on the Feast of All Souls, I stood at my own graveside, but I didn't shed a tear.
I thought about my daughter, who awaits me there, and I remembered her life with awe and gratitude. I missed her with an ache that will never leave my bones, but my heart is not heavy. It soars to meet her.
I looked at the descriptions cast in stone: husband and father, baby girl, wife and mother. The roles that will define us for all eternity.
I suppose it is an excellent practice to ponder the fact that we will all be dust some day. As I stood on the very spot where I hope my grandchildren and their grandchildren will kneel someday, begging mercy on my soul, I realized the truth.
It will all be over in a flash.
From the cemetery we stopped at Starbucks for something hot and chocolately. From there I went to a community theater audition. I was cast in the role of Maxine, who has good hair and make-up and is learning to tap dance.
Life is short, but it's grand. Live it up, and do much good with it.
Eternal peace grant unto them O Lord, and may Perpetual Light shine upon them. May their souls, and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
Since I haven't been posting many anecdotes here lately, it seemed appropriate to kick things off with a humdinger.
Lukie is in the second grade at our parish school. He sits in the front row, first seat on the left. He spends his days learning about subtraction, spelling words with silent e, and other mysteries of the universe. He's a good kid, I suppose. At least I haven't heard too many scary stories about him. Until now, that is.
Lukie sits with two other little urchins, we'll call them Butch and Buster. The three of them apparently had quite a scintillating conversation last week, according to Butch's mom, who shared this story with me.
Buster: (in a clear, loud voice) My brother said "F" to me. (Note: he did not exactly say "F.")
Butch: "F"? What's "F"?
Lukie: Yeah, what's "F"?
Buster: I don't know, but he said "F."
(At this point I imagine their teacher rushing toward them, her eyes wide, her hand over her open mouth, aghast. I also imagine this in slow motion, for effect.)
Teacher: WHAT are you boys saying????
At this point a lightbulb appears over Lukie's head, and wisdom and insight are his.
Lukie: "F"...hmm..what is "F"? I know. "F" is a cow.
Huh?
Yep, my son then proceeded to tell the other boys that he was pretty sure that "F" was another word for cow.
Butch's mom and I enjoyed this episode more than we probably should, for two important reasons.
One: Lukie (and her Butch) did not report to the teacher that they heard their older brother/uncle/dad or MOM say that word, EVER. Thank you God.
Two: There is still some innocence left in this world. And some of it is in our particular children.
