what a long, strange trip it's been

I've seen people this week that i haven't seen in four decades. They have universally greeted me with joyful hugs. It has felt a bit like the homecoming that I'd long since given up on.

And at the same time: it is a painful contrast. I have become someone very different from whom i should have been.

I hate this

And it's really important that I hate this.

https://mobile.nytimes.com/2017/11/07/style/modern-love-we-were-in-our-20s-and-we-didnt-have-a-clue.html?mc=aud_dev&mcid=keywee&mccr=dommob&kwp_0=626209&kwp_4=2226722&kwp_1=931846&referer=http://m.facebook.com/

Today's word

vespertine /VESS-per-tyne/ - 1. of, relating to, or occurring in the evening  2. active, flowering, or flourishing in the evening : crepuscular

I love it when I see a new word and immediate know what it means. In this case, it is because I have so often prayed vespers. (I was familiar with crepsucular, too, but might not have remembered it out of context.)

"Who *are* you?"

"No one of consequence."

Happy birthday, Karen

I miss you.

I should have been a better big brother.

Another set of anagrams

Enlarge and general

Stupid

stupid, stupid, stupid.

And probably a broken hand to show for it.

Temper, temper . . .

So: Cassie's kids were over because they were spending the night and we were celebrating Nicademus' birthday. We'd picked them up after leaving the IC choir Christmas party on Dec. 18th, as Cassie lived within a few blocks of there. (I also don't remember if I've told you that I'm playing at the rock mass once a month.) Emma didn't want to come, but Cassie told her she had to.

She and Nicademus started going at each other right away, annoying one another. We separated them, but Emma refused to do as she was told. We really didn't want to put her to bed for the night because, well, if we did she'd very frequently be in bed for the night not very long after getting here. Besides, we hadn't celebrated Nic's birthday yet. I felt my frustration level with her creeping up, went into the bedroom and took a short timeout. Emma did finally calm down and take her timeout, and we had cake and ice cream and Nicademus opened his presents from us.

By now things were going pretty well, and my guard was down. One of the kids asked for something to drink, and there were literally no options besides water. I found myself really annoyed by this; my wife had been home all day and knew the kids were coming over; surely she could have made sure there were some drink options in the house for them? On the other hand, I also knew it was perfectly reasonable to just have them drink some water.

I thought that I would go ahead and mix up a pitcher of lemonade really quickly. But the pitcher wasn't empty: it just had been sitting in the fridge for entirely too long with something in it that we weren't willing to drink ourselves anymore, let alone give to our grandchildren. So I grabbed the pitcher and walked over to the sink with it, but the sink was so full of dirty dishes that there was no way to wash it. Again, this was despite my wife having been home all day. In her defense, she may have been working on Christmas gifts. But there I was standing in the kitchen trying to make a drink for the grandchildren, which I thought my wife should have already taken care of, staring at a sink full of dirty dishes which I thought my wife should have already taken care of. And I wasn't very far removed from my frustration with my penultimate granddaughter, who walked in just as I was setting the pitcher down in angry resignation that I wasn't going to be able to mix up a drink for them, to express her displeasure that "Geez, you guys don't have anything for us to drink?! I don't want water! Gahhhhd!"

While I'd been sympathetic enough to my grandchildren's wish for a tasty beverage to try to do something about it, I just. knew. that one of them was going to come in with that whiny, privileged tone of voice in response to the completely reasonable suggestion that they make due with a small drink of water before bed. And of course it was the one with whom I'd been frustrated already.

In that moment, I actually thought I was going to be able to break the cabinet door with my fist.

I wasn't.

My wife and I were both very careful afterward to make sure that our granddaughter understood that she wasn't responsible for my bad decision. I wasn't interested in creating the dynamic in her life for which I would've been responsible if I'd blamed her for my own volatile reaction.

Today's word

terpsichorean /terp-sih-kuh-REE-un/ - of or relating to dancing

Pretty much have to look up this word whenever I encounter it, except when the context gives it away. Was nice to read about the muse of dance.

No One Hopes Alone

That's the title of today's Dynamic Catholic Advent reflection.

I don't think I have anything to add to that.

Oh, burn it down

Nobody cares anyway how the neurons in my head fire.

Coincidence?

Today's Advent reflection from Dynamic Catholic has the same title as the local Catholic opioid response program I've been working with: Choosing Hope.

Today's word

From the Dictionary Devil puzzle:

avgolemono /ˌäv-gō-ˈle-mə-(ˌ)nō/ - a soup or sauce made with chicken stock, egg yolks, and lemon juice

Nice weekend

My wife kept asking me if everything was okay.

I really don't know how to answer that for myself, let alone to her.

I suppose the completely honest answer is, "No less so than usual."
And don't expect me to be able to articulate what might be wrong.

Hope

Today's Best Advent Ever article (well, I see it's actually yesterday's, based on the time I finished and published this post) discussed a faith-filled baseball player's response to the end of his career. I was encouraged to realize how it echoed my own response when i received a setback early in both my military career and my faith journey. (That is, it was early in both, not a setback in both.)

It seems as if i struggle more to hope now than i did back then. It seems as if my faith in God is not as consistent.

The first week of Advent

That single candle, burning in the darkness that it dispels, is a metaphor that I can almost believe after being curled up untouched throughout another lonely night in another season of isolation.

I'm still reading about hope in the daily reflections from Dynamic Catholic's Best Advent Ever.

Maybe . . . perhaps not for this life, but maybe.

Today's word

maieutic /may-YOO-tik/ - relating to or resembling the Socratic method of eliciting new ideas from another

I love this idea of assisting in the birth of new ideas.

Irony . . . or Providence?

I'm participating in an opioid crisis response program called Choosing Hope.

I'm receiving Advent e-mails, from a separate program, that are focused on hope.

And still I have very little sense of hope.

Perhaps there really is a God cares for me, who knows what He is doing, who is providing for my needs.

The third day

I didn't find the first two days of Best Advent Ever from Dynamic Catholic very helpful, as they focused on hope that I haven't especially been feeling. As a result, they felt more like an accusation against me.

Today's post on what to do about that was way more useful for me.

I probably owe you some words

As Aunt Em used to say, better to owe it to you than to cheat you out of it.

At some point I'll start with some Advent reflections. For now I'm settling for having started with two days of reading something meaningful.