Between hustle and bustle and wandering

` 

Friends Fireplace Mantle- Blacksburg VA- Dec 16, 2011

Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the house,  
she hustled and bustled, just like a mouse.

So yesterday I pulled the clean sheets from the dryer;I carried them upstairs, enjoying all that cozy warmth.

I was marching right through my "to-do" list and it felt good. I had mailed the last of the packages and cards, sweet husband had made some biscotti, my jams were all labeled (and many, carefully wrapped and mailed to my family in Buffalo), the tree is up and lit, albeit  without decorations, (it may stay that way). Despite all this it felt like something was hanging over my head all day yesterday. 

Cue the dramatic music... there in one of the guest bedrooms, hanging above my head... a 8 x 3 inch piece of ceiling- like a door flap on one of those "count down to Christmas" advent calendars.  I took a deep breath and left the room. I went and made the bed in the other guest room. Sounds sensible, but I was not really feeling sensible. I do this a lot - walk away from a situation, which is good- but then bury it, which is not so good. I need to add a side note here... to my great blogging friend Sharon over at One Woman's Life in Maine. She posted about a ceiling issue on Friday- Sharon I feel your pain!

Sweet husband arrived home early. This was so we could attend a memorial service for long time neighbor, who passed away on Saturday. A meltdown was imminent-and occurred in spurts, throughout the memorial service. At the end, we all sang one of her favorite Christmas carols, Silent Night; this from a woman who survived the holocaust.  Needless to say I was sobbing, all over a nice clean suit coat, and not singing. 

As the afternoon moved on, my mood did not lift. My husband made a valiant  and chatty effort to bring me 'round. Our afternoon walk became a dirge.  Familiar weedy thoughts ran rough shod over my faith. Feeling "less than", a tangled litany of  faults took over. I was consumed... as we walked all I saw was the grey asphalt under my feet.  As we rounded the bend in silence - I needed to activate the weed puller in me.   I tried to remember January of this past year. When I learned to see one small moment enough to write it down.  An intention to focus on my  breath... nothing. I felt dumb. I could not even breath with focus. It was ever so soft touch of pale blue sky, shrouded in a a layer of soft clouds that that began to wilt the weeds. Breath creating (instead of breath taking) touches of blue.  

I was a bit miffed that I could not find words to create a small stone.  But I was ok with that. As we neared the end of our walk, a hawk with a squirrel hanging from his mouth, flew from a near by brush. Coming across the street, it could hardly get enough lift to rise above an oncoming car. It was a startling sight. 

We talked the rest of the way about what kind of hawk it might be and how amazing that it could carry a whole squirrel!  

Upon arriving home, my husband cut down the offending ceiling flap, as neatly as possible.

We then started dinner, cooking up beans and burger, grating cheese, and pummeling an avocado. We decided it was a beer night, even though it was a school night (code for nights that one must get up the next day to go to work).  And we really went all out and each drank a whole beer - it was just one of those nights we did not feel like sharing.