"Why do they lock gas station bathrooms? Are they afraid someone will clean them?"
I have a colleague who knew Tasha Tudor and was actually named after her. What an independent woman she was, and so talented. I have at least one book she illustrated, a collection of Christmas stories called Take Joy!
Meanwhile, I'm feeling guilty about thinking East. Talking to BJ on Thurs was great, but I didn't realize the OD is losing 5 families this summer and then somewhere in the conversation BJ said, and with you maybe leaving (knife to my heart.) Then last night in Steph's sermon, which was about discernment and the Holy Spirit, she said, one of the things to think about when you're making a decision is "is it good for the community." Ouch.
Which of course wants me to yelp, "I have been here from almost the very beginning of this community, I've done my course!" "I'm NOT a Johnny-come-lately that came to Pgh for school and left. I came back THREE times." But I think about the Out of the Gray song "We never went to Venice" (or some such) which talks about building a life right here, which I have ALWAYS advocated. And I do have a wonderful group of friends here, who would miss me, and a great support system. I don't know. I know that these doubts are part of the process--that having these doubts are not wrong, they mean that I care enough to look at it from all points.
I don't know. Something has to give. And it will. I have to trust the process, trust myself, and trust my Lord. I've started re-reading Max Lucado's book, When God whispers your name, and there's a part where he talks about his daughter and a player piano, that reminded me yesterday afternoon (and this morning) that I can't screw up God's plan:
I could see why she was so happy. She sat down to attempt "Chopsticks" but instead played "The Sound of Music." What's more, she couldn't fail. One greater than she was dictating the sound. Andrea was free to play as much as she wanted, knowing the music would never suffer.
Oh. Okay. Alright, I'll go live my life.
When I was in college and seriously considering transferring from Carlow (where I attended my first two years) to Washington College (where I did attend my last two years, and graduate) I was in serious every day, well, I don't know, what should I do? My mother, wise woman that she is, said, write it on the calendar. Every day, when you wake up, what is in your heart? In the end, I did decide to leave this city I love, and it WAS the best decision. I had two wonderful years at WAC, years that are earmarked as the two of the best years of my life. Which was such a joy, as I had had two pretty miserable ones at Carlow. (Which is not to say I didn't love Carlow, it's just that the overarching memories of Carlow were ones of growth, painful growth. The overarching memories of WAC were enjoyment.)
Of course, those memories are at least 15 years old, and thus colored by memory, which never tells the whole story.
In other news, when I went for tea and a bagel at Tazza, there was a table of women knitting! And then I went to see Babs, who was on her way to the grocery store. She picked up yogurt and cranberry juice for me! (And my heart says, see, you'd miss these things...) (And my heart replies, I know.)
To be continued...