Promise of Living

I am thankful...
That my poor exhausted 3 year old is sleeping soundly after a rough evening
That both children are (basically) healthy and happy and growing/developing well
For my poor husband that just went back in to work at 9:35 on Thanksgiving night to try to make this self-employment thing keep working
For those that keep our world safe despite the fact that it often means they have to work holidays
For tasty food, solid shelter, plentiful clean hot water, and flush toilets
That neither I nor anyone I love is in Mumbai
That none of my family, including me, have yet been laid off
That gas is half what it was at the beginning of the summer
That the waistband on my pants is looser than it was a month ago
For my new gloves that do not have holes in the fingertips
For winning the November prize at the Jewelry Making Forums
For my church job and being asked to sing Christmas Day at my home church
For the people who have been so supportive of my singing - my AWCD, Pam, my AVT, Christine, my beloved late voice teacher, Jacquelyn Jarret, and my husband
For music
For joy
For laughter so hard I start coughing
For the times I don't hit myself though I feel like it
For those perfect nights when there's a hint of magic in the air and I feel so connected with the earth and the universe that everything seems possible.
That learning is a continual process and I get to keep doing it
For a place to express myself
For a means to express myself
And for you... all my blog friends... whose comments mean a whole heck of a lot to me as does the gift of your time in reading whatever nonsense I'm currently spewing out - Amanda, Betty, Carol Sue, DreamLurker, FoxPhile, Graymama, Greta, Harriet, IWOM, Jade, JerseyTjej, LauraJ, Marsbarn, Raindog, SmileyMamaT, Willow (gone but not forgotten!), and everyone who stops by here.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

~~~~
*The Promise of Living, The Tender Land, Aaron Copland
This was the recessional at our wedding. The ending 'verse' goes...

Give thanks for the sunshine
Give thanks for the rain
Give thanks we have hands to deliver the grain
Oh let us be joyful
Oh let us be grateful
To the Lord for his blessing
(Oh let us sing our song
And let our song be heard
Let's sing our song, with our hearts
and find a promise in that song.)
The promise of living
The promise of growing
The promise of ending
is labor and sharing and loving.

New (brief) post up at Keep the Geek.

In other news...

• the solos at both churches on Sunday went well (solo trio in William Walton's Jubilate Deo at Center Church and the opening and (near) closing solos in Chilcott's Loving Shepherd (at the cantor stand even) at P&A).
  
• the trip I was going to be making to the PNW this spring has been killed by my 3 year old's dance recital schedule. To say I'm disappointed is an exceeding understatement.
  
• the cold that I managed to stave off so that I could sing the solos is arriving but that's ok, better now than Sunday last.
  

Of Inspirational Phrases.

A phrase I heard once is dancing at the periphery of my consciousness - “if God brings you to it, God will bring you through it" - these days. I can’t disprove it as, well, God has brought me to a whole boatload of “its” and I’m still alive. You’ll note, however, the saying does not say “will bring you through it unscathed” or “happy” or even “unchanged”. It promises nothing but that the sufferer of “it” will continue and there are a lot worse things out there than dead, many of which leave you praying for dead instead. This isn’t helping my mood any, is it? Guess I’ll try to leave that one alone and go back to “This, too, shall pass.” It’s a little more certain.

These Boots Are Made For Walking

So far today, in separate incidents, my 3 year old has clocked me in the temple with a sneaker (hard enough to leave a bruise) and had to be carried out under my arm from a playdate (without her coat on) screaming.

Bet you wish I'd stayed on blog sabbatical, huh?

Two Years

Two years.

Two years since life as I know it
changed.
Immeasurably,
completely,
in perpetuity.

Two years since I began
describing my
children
as "one living, one lost".

Two years
has served to merely
dull
the searing knife of pain
that will
never
truly vanish
though the phrase has
now
become "two living, one lost".

I do not know
if the life that
left us
was male or female.
I know only
that my heart holds
it
him
her
until the end
of
my own.