Sabbath Ramblings

On the devoutness scale we score around 7, maybe 8. We go to church even when it's not a big holiday. We fast when we're supposed to, feast when it's time to party and we try -mind you, try - to live our lives according to Christian precepts. I always rather liked how Jesus summed up all the commandments: Love God with all your heart, soul and mind and love your neighbor as yourself. That's enough to keep one busy for a lifetime.

I believe it is entirely possible to live a good life, even a "spiritual" life without church. In the years between the wasteland of being a Baptist and becoming a Catholic I didn't go to church much at all but I still believed. I understand the variety of spiritual expression as well as completely getting why some people think the whole thing is absolute bunk. (I don't understand Scientologists but I don't think I'm alone in that). I am, however, largely incapable of being a bossy-boots about religious practise, primarily because I've not yet got a handle on the planks in my eye. Consider the specks in your eye free from my interference for the foreseeable future.

I love our church community and I will miss being there this morning but I'll still be renewing my spirit today -which I very much need-and even if it is without naves and sacraments it will be done in the company of saints.

I will invoke the blessing of St. Fiacre while making another attempt at gardening. I was really blue yesterday and gardening seemed like such a fine idea. But the weather wasn't nearly as warm as it looked and I managed only to plant sweet pea seeds before my fingers froze solid. Today I'm going to try and clean up the beds in front of the house, since that's what everyone sees and a tidy front garden of lavendar, roses and creeping thyme is much nicer than the dandelions and crabgrass that hold sway at the moment.

St. Monica is the patron saint of mothers. Also, the patron saint of disappointing children. That's funny. The Child is too young to be considered a bonafide disappointment. The last few days have just been really, really hard. Sometimes, boys and girls, I do not feel up to the whole teenager thing. Which I hate because I think it's boring to act as if raising teenagers is more difficult than raising any other age. (It's all hard, at least if you're trying to do a good job of it).

But the last few days have just been beyond frustrating. She will not listen. Not at all. She is being argumentative, beligerent and stubborn. This is complicated by the fact that I cannot figure out how to engage her or enforce discipline without eventually screaming until blood comes out my ears. Also, some words have slipped out that I'm not so proud of because I'd freaking wash her mouth out if she said them so why am I using them in her presence? It's been very upsetting all the way around. I'm disappointed in myself, I'm at a loss as to how to get through to her and I'm exhausted.

Yesterday, after her volleyball game, we went to lunch and had a fine time. As The Spouse was paying our bill, The Child wrapped herself around me and hugged me for the longest time. I felt all of our "I'm sorry's" and "I really love you's" flowing into each other. Then we came home and she made me crazy again. So I'll be asking for the intercessions of St. Monica because I really can't take too much more of this. Seriously. Boarding school is always an option.

St. Vitus is the patron saint of comedy. WWW emailed me this video clip of John McCain singing Streisand hits. It is laugh-out-loud-don't-drink-anything-while-viewing-or-it-will-come-out-your-nose funny. Also, when yesterday's waitress asked for my order I said, "A garden salad, 4 Diet Sprites and all the TVs turned to FOX news". She didn't get it because she was like, really young, but The Spouse was amused.

I was really bummed yesterday but I got over it. Hugging The Child helped, even if we still fought later on. Planting some small things even with numb fingers helped. Other mood boosters included: Iwanski telling me I was prettier than he was, dog kisses, dusting the living room while singing along to "Sk8tr Boi", having Ms. M to dinner and enjoying a fantastic tangerine-chicken salad made by The Child. (She makes me crazy but the kid can cook!) Time at Our Lady of the Pillowcase (Catholic for "sleeping in on Sunday") didn't hurt either.

Shabbat Shalom.