I believe it was in the car on Monday that Jack attempted to break the news to me that "The Whole World is Not Your Friend." This after I relayed information to him regarding my latest physical, and "Kelly, Kelly, Kelly." He stopped me and asked, "Who's Kelly?" "My doctor," I said. "No, no, no, no. . ." he said. "You can't be friends with your doctor."
I may get in trouble with him for relating this, but I figure if he says it, it's fair game. Grist for the mill, as writers like to say.
I promised myself at this workshop that I was not going to leave with any new friends. But Sharon and I kept getting thrown together in these intimate conversations that went deeper every time we were asked to talk about something. Well, you know, I ended up with her email and phone number. She even picked me up the next morning since she lives in Onalaska and I was right on the way. Besides. She lives on a golf course. What can I say? It's just bigger than both of us.
Awe transforms us. It interrupts all our assumptions and reveals not a thrill, but the Holy or the Sacred, and causes us to engage differently with the other. (I'm still waiting for that last part. You know that incident last week with shooting the sheriff that I wrote about? It hasn't gotten better, and it hasn't gone away. And, internally, I'm still experiencing myself as edgy, confrontational, challenging. . .in other words, "Bring it on." Not good.)
I also learned that this generation "demands customization." So this is what Maggie and I have been experiencing with parents of Confirmation students. (Not all of them, thankfully.) They can be so resistant to the way we're trying to do things, right down to the scheduling. (Could we have Prep at a different time? Could we just include it on Wednesday nights with everything else?) We've had to hold make-up sessions for the make-up sessions. It's just ridiculous. We're talking about four measly sessions a year. . .about 8 hours total out of their lives. (Does this sound like whining? Mine, I mean.)
On the other hand, isn't this what Jesus was dealing with in the Gospels? ("To what shall I compare this generation. . . we played a flute for you, but you didn't dance; we played a dirge but you didn't mourn. . .)
Thursday back to work for us both. I have several new things I'm trying. . .a Discipleship group, an Intercessory Prayer group, the young Moms group, and an Online group called "Something Else." So much energy, so little time. All this while the Women's Association spent the day in the kitchen creating the vegetable beef soup that's made them famous. Today's their Bazaar. (Fifty years of this.) Church, Oh Church.
Yesterday, Patty and I met in Avoca for our as-often-as-possible-connect. We became friends in Wichita, and now she lives in Omaha, and Avoca is roughly halfway for both of us. She talked about this time of deep transition in her ministry, and I told her I've fallen in love again with my novel. After a few months of being loathe to even look at it because I thought the writing was so pathetic, and the story wasn't interesting, I've recovered. My writing "coach" tells me everyone goes through this.
Speaking of Novels, this morning my husband actually made some remark about people just sitting down and cranking them out, and why aren't I more like that? I told him, that, indeed, some people are able to do that. People who don't do anything else, for instance. (see above, Edgy, etc.) And some people get a good formula going, and just create stories to fit the formula. Okay? And then he suggested that fiction is just a string of lies, anyway. I know. Right? This time he was joking, I thought. And then he asked if I would let him read some of it, since Patty gets to. I don't know. . .what would you do?
And, also this morning, I looked out our kitchen window and saw this:
And, this. Daniel called yesterday, is working two jobs, staying with a friend till he can get into an apartment, and is getting to be with Lilia. They look like two happy people. Which makes me feel happy, as well.