Corners

Thanksgiving was Thursday.

It started at church, like the past 4 or 5 Thanksgivings, working on meals for the homebound. We counted a few pies and then I went upstairs to mass. Realized that this would be the last time I would say some of these words, like "and also with you". And I didn't really care, frankly. I mean, not in a bad way. Just can't get mad about the English language changes to the liturgy coming up this weekend.

Went back downstairs after talking with Jack for a minute, and Sr. Vanda stopped me at the door as I was putting on an apron. Sarah had taken my job. I glanced over at the counter and Sarah called over to me, "11 big, 11 small, cut into 8ths and 4ths will give us what we need." I realized I'd been replaced. Not a big thing in the grand scheme of, well, anything on earth. Anybody can divide pies. Sr. Vanda was worried and apologized to me, which was unnecessary but nice. I told her I'd go decorate upstairs. Needed to get it done anyway.

Jack was in back with the wreath and I made my way to the sacristry. Where I hid in the corner and cried. I just can't find my place at this church these days. Gave myself a pep talk and went back out to pull plants off the altar area and start bringing things together in back. Jack, Fr. Miguel, and I hung the wreath in about 3 minutes. I told them I'd put everything else together after meals were done downstairs. Feeling better, I went down.

The kitchen was completely jammed with people. Ann caught me as I started to put on an apron. She could read the weariness on my face and asked me what was wrong. And I started to cry again. We talked a moment. She told me to go home (nicely, appropriately). I went home and sent Jake to deliver meals.

I monotonously cleaned the kitchen and get things ready to make pies for my mom's house. Jake got home and told me that even with so many people, they didn't have their acts together very well. Probably because of so many people, I thought to myself. The kids were playing with friends and I sent Jake to clean something--anything--while I cooked.

I made a pumpkin pie. I made a chocolate custard pie. I took a shower. I made whipped cream and cinnamon whipped cream. We went to my parents' house.

There, I drank coffee and chatted with my sister and felt like I was turning a corner. I don't know what God is trying to say to me about all that's gone on at the parish for me this semester, but I'm not one to make rash moves. I'm not one to make moves. But there have been so many barriers and frustrations and stuff just grinding me down...it's hard to know what it means.

But dinner was excellent and we played games and Billy was crazy and it was all good. I went home that night and felt ok. Took a muscle relaxer and went to bed.

Friday we went to Cairo. Hard morning getting up and out the door but we made it down there only to realize we'd left the pork and beef trimmings we needed to make deer sausage and burger back home in the freezer. Some juggling with my mom and Jake's brother and aunt and it eventually arrived in time for Jake and his dad to process 3 deer. Most of that is in my freezer downstairs right now. In Cairo I made an afghan and almost finished a doll sweater. I watched cable TV. I slept 11 hours Friday night.

And today is a little different. I have children's liturgy of the word planned for the three weeks of Advent I'm in charge of it. I have an Irish dancer dress made for one of Fiona's dolls (she wants doll clothes for Christmas). The house is clean, the freezer is full, and my teeth all fit together when I close my mouth.

It's ok. Not great, I mean, I've got a lot of stuff to do in the next few weeks, not to mention the car business needs to get wrapped up. Christmas is very close. Cold is close. Art classes, my online class, sewing--lots of things need to be done and done soon. And I'm camping with the girl scouts before Christmas as well. Ha! But somehow, I feel like Thanksgiving morning was this corner.

Reflecting on the past year, I realized that my life runs on a liturgical calendar. It was the Friday before the first Sunday of Advent that Daisy had her seizure. It was that week that my brother and his wife found out their baby had down syndrome. The year that followed, from Advent 2010 to the end of this liturgical year, has been really really busy and hard and angst-filled. Now that it is after dusk on Saturday it is a new liturgical year, 2011 has begun, year B in a three year cycle.

It's my favorite season. I missed it last year--I was too busy being worried and sad. Perhaps it is time to turn a corner and see this year differently. I don't know if that's the way things work but that's the way things seem to work for me. So here it goes. Faith in a better tomorrow.