Sometimes My Fingers Need an Editor

In my frustration last Friday, I was unkind.

Feeling were hurt, and that’s my fault.

I was gently made aware of this today, and I have made changes to the post in question and my own comments in the discussion of that post.

The unkind words were my responsibility and mine alone. They have been removed. The story still stands, and it is clearly possible to vent without being uncharitable.

An apology has been made as well, but I wanted to set things right in this space.

In the future, I will take extra care to think twice before I type once.


For My Penance, I Will Slow Down

I live a life fueled by adrenalin with a side of anxiety.

In short, I don’t do “slow.”

Just ask my poor husband, who strolls, ambles, and meanders along–10 feet behind the rest of the family because apparently all the kids inherited my inability to decelerate.

I’m always looking for a way to get something done–or to get somewhere–a little faster. I don’t take the highway to Little Brother’s school because that adds half a mile and about 7 traffic lights to the trip. I can get there more quickly if I drive through the neighborhoods.

Notre Dame women’s basketball coach Muffet McGraw once tweeted:

muffet mcgraw tweet

That’s pretty much how I roll too. And yesterday on my way to Mass at Little Brother’s school (so I could be there for his test-and-dose diabetic routine after Mass) I was driving pretty urgently.

As in 41 mph in a 25 zone.

By the time I saw the police SUV, it was too late. He saw me first and followed me to the school parking lot where I foolishly parked in my usual spot–in full view of half the classrooms.

Did I mention that the police officer had his lights on?

I was polite. He took my license, registration and insurance card and went off to check SCMODS* to verify that I’d never had a speeding ticket in over 30 years of driving.

The officer, mercifully, did not give me a ticket–just a warning that I need to slow down.

Honestly, the embarrassment of being pulled over right in front of the school cost me more than any speeding ticket would have.

So what was I saying Thursday about the hours in the day?

…this Lent is going to be all about letting go of–giving up–the control I want to have over the hours in my day. Resistance is futile, but acceptance is going to be hard-won…

I feel like I go through the day always putting out fires. I only get to what’s urgent, and it’s a struggle not to assign everything to the “urgent” category. Writing these words, I can feel myself clenching up inside.

I’m on a “mission from God.” So is the police officer who handed me some grace in the form of a warning.

*”State. County. Municipal. Offender. Data. System.” If you do not recognize this quote, you need to watch The Blues Brothers. Stat.

Calendar FAIL

I’m usually good at matters involving the calendar. I’ve got the family calendar in the kitchen, my planner on my desk when I’m home and with me when I’m not, and a church calendar (for reference purposes) hanging above my desk.

People depend on me to be good at calendar stuff. Mostly that’s my family, but sometimes it’s people outside the family. The folk group, for example. Well, actually, they depend on me to be good at church stuff, but sometimes the calendar is a big part of that.

With every change of seasons in our parish, our music director assigns us to use a different Mass setting. The one we use for that small bit of Ordinary Time between Christmas and Lent is the least familiar, since we only use it at that one time of year. We don’t know the Gloria for that Mass setting yet, so we’ve been using one from a different, more-familiar Mass. One recent week at folk group practice, one musician wondered if we should work on this other Gloria. “Why bother?” I asked. “Lent is in a couple of weeks, and we won’t need it then. Plus, with the new Mass settings coming up, we won’t be using this one next year.”

Then I was reading Sarah’s blog yesterday and I discovered that Lent is still FOUR WEEKS away!