Standing Down

This weekend delivered precisely what was needed: good times, perspective, and a swift kick.

We spent Saturday reconnecting as a family, which culminated in a great canoeing/kayaking/fishing trip down the Delaware. The first time I had ever gotten into a kayak was 11 years ago in the Bahamas--and fortunately, I have improved since then. I scouted out fishing spots for the boys, and they caught a couple (hubby lost a 3 lb bass he will mourn for months).

While I birded down river, the quiet gave me the time and space to reflect on the previous week. And put that in its proper place and perspective.

I continued these reflections while I ran 4.4 miles in the rain the next day. Hubby reported that he saw me smiling as I walked up to the house.

We herded the boys to mass a little while later. Fr M was replaced by an African missionary, who knocked it out of the park; who reaffirmed to me that kids DO learn what they live, and that we are heading in the right direction. Hubby's disappointment that this man wasn't joining our parish was palpable.

As for those screeds and the resulting baggage brought up, I'm reminded that sheer volume doesn't make anyone else right--or wrong. All feedback is ultimately valuable in one way or other.

Even the most vengeful. Trouble is, you have to dig a little more to sort the wheat from the chaff. AND withstand the stench. AND get your hands dirty.

S'alright. No one said this life wasn't messy.