So this is Mellow?
Lent 2022 [pt.1]
The Cathedral Basilica of St. John the Baptist in Savannah, GA
The last week of March, just as I had finished writing my own eight week Eucharist curriculum for two of my kids, my oldest friend reached out to me. She asked about how life had been. I thought nothing of the question and easily replied:
I’m alright. Things finally mellowed out after a very intense couple months. Staying busy, going to teach a Eucharist course to my kids for 8 weeks before they take their 1st Communion on Easter. Working a lot. Purchased a domain to start a blog. Organizing the school silent auction has taken a lot of time, I’m finally putting together the auction web page. I’m pretty sure I became the PTO President, Lord help me. It’s been crazy. Kids are alright, ups and downs, but generally happy and healthy.
WTF. As the quick touches of letters spelled the story from my Android keyboard, I thought nothing of what I was sharing. Actually, it probably wasn’t until hours later that it hit me. You see, this had all taken place in just a few weeks of March. In a time that I thought was “mellowed out”. What wasn’t mentioned was receiving a threat from a law firm to cease and desist at the beginning of January. A monsoon of emails flooding my Gmail and stalking my sanity nearly every day of turbulence. Or the month and a half long debacle of dealing with CPS – one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. What I also hadn’t detailed to her were the multiple times I was expected in court or the multiple times I was served papers by my new friend Matt, with the Sheriff’s department. Hey, there was even a little weekend escape in there where I went to Georgia. That was all just January and February. By my skewed reality, everything that I rattled off to my friend about March, was “mellow”. But it was a lot.
Reflecting on my recent past often leaves me (and others) muttering “what the f—?!” or “how the hell?!” Yet what I continually get stuck trying to conceive is: how have I survived?
The Cathedral Basilica of St. John the Baptist in Savannah, GA
I was filling out this year’s Energy Assistance application and they were asking me how I was able to pay my bills for a given window of time. Here it was, on paper, with an envelope addressed to me, and I still felt like the overshadowed, inattentive participant in the room – the one who’s silently begging to not be called on to answer because I know damn well I have no good answer. But they called on me for this one, and no matter what direction I looked, it was all mine to answer. How were you able to afford your bills during the months of June, July and August? …
Jesus.
(Yup. I wrote that.) F--, I didn’t know! I really didn’t! I do know there’s been a lot of prayer through these last few years, a lot of miracles, and a lot of kind support from family, church and total strangers. It’s just worked out. Who am I to question it? I’m surviving by the Grace of God and I am grateful.
I have to imagine that’s the only way I have survived mentally and emotionally as well. Jesus. 2022 has had an unfathomable start for my kids and I. There’s no other good reason on how I am still standing most days. When I started teaching my kids my Eucharist class, I knew I needed God to carry me on this one so I prayed hard. I taught their first class on Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. I am queen of committing myself to a dozen passionate ideas, and then completing none. I wanted to complete this so badly, but given the trajectory of the start of my year, I knew there would be a brutal tug of war for my attention. Would Jesus save me on this one?