Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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3 Comments:
Sweetheart, were you just born wise? Or with little wisdom-buds on the tips of your fingers? Or what?
You seem to have worked out the dynamics of the situation, and found a way of coping. My prayer for you is peace and comfort and strength and wisdom and patience and guidance and love. May you have a blessed weekend. Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Saturday, March 03, 2007 Carpenters never have any shelves in their own homes. Bakers' families are forever running out of bread. When you do something all day long for other people, it is hard to then find enough time to do it for yourself. You are in the reassurance business. Wherever you go, whenever you open your mouth, you make other people feel better about themselves. You inspire trust. Yet secretly, inwardly, you now feel nervous. Don't be. Despite your misgivings, it is going to be a fine weekend. Mr.Horoscope has never been so accurate for me in all the year’s I’ve been reading him, nor offered so succinctly what I yearn to hear. I am off again this weekend to try to do my part in the Circ de Chaos that is my elderly, infirm parents’ lives. Going as faithful servant too, which is not a comfortable place for me. In my real life I am either a benevolent boss (dictator, my staff might say) or a full partner. Here, I am often nothing more than the tongue that says "there, there". When I have to go up there I repeat the mantra "I am a pillar of love that brings ease and comfort." I have no authority, no body follows my advice, though all agree that it is sound and good and I didn’t offer it till it was asked for. Often when I come home from another stretch up there, I feel as if I’ve done nothing but sink into the torpor of suspended animation, having merely oozed out some sort of Ointment of Sympathy. If I had a friend who insisted upon doing stupid things that caused injury to herself and pain to those who loved her - and if said friend went years refusing to change, always making stupid choices based on what she remembered having, not upon what she had now, no matter how many options I, or other loved ones presented to her - we would drift apart and she would become a memory. Ya can’t quite do that with parents. And had my sister not fallen in love with a wonderful man and moved back east - I would have handled things very differently. But if’s are not horses. I shall not ride. I shall drive over to that place and do my dooty. And Mr.Horoscope promises success anyway. Cool, hmmm? Taking socks to knit in the evenings. Be back Sunday night. posted by Bess | 6:02 AM |
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