Fedes
It is about to storm here. Austin must wait until during the week; I have some time off and I will get away then and try to remember what matters. A pilgrimage of sorts. I always feel remorseful about my writing: that I write too much, that I couch things that are personal in vague terms that may appear to mean one thing when the mean something else entirely, that I'm calculating without meaning to be. Often I wonder if I touch anyone at all -in general- and I guess I need to be more careful about that.
Last night I got home from work and dance class to see my dad on the couch, my brother in front of the TV and my mother at the table with a half eaten plate of leftover chinese food. It was a little after nine, and she was slumped in her seat. I walked over to her and asked her if she was ok. She looked at me and said no. She said, "Whatever relationship I had with my sister is dead." My dad said, "Helen, please."
I was getting a glass of water, and she stood up and walked over to the counter and began to talk. Jonathan and dad went out. I gave her a hug because she needed one, and she started crying on my shoulder. I rubbed her back and listened. When I went to Christine's house later, I felt bad for not being ok. My mother talks in circles. Do I write that way?
I have no problem loving people though I have other worries. I try to act and do what I believe is right. I try to talk less and do more (though I fail). I love knowing things and learning, but when it comes to God I've never done much book-studying beyond reading the Bible. I don't know much about theological scholarship. Likewise, I do not do a rosary a day, carry a St. Christopher's medallion or memorize Saints' names. I'm a lector, but I'm not a great Catholic at all. I have quirks: when I'm scared, I sing the Our Father to myself. But God has always resided more in my heart than in my head and I wonder if this is a shortcoming of mine. I should be strong in both heart and mind. Sometimes I think that these books can be cages. God is larger than our thoughts on him. I'm a simple person. I don't always pray in words because the faith that when I open my heart to Him he can decipher it is a great comfort to me. Words are too frequently not what we'd like them to be. Words, too often, fail to speak.
There's a lot about people that I don't understand.
Last night I got home from work and dance class to see my dad on the couch, my brother in front of the TV and my mother at the table with a half eaten plate of leftover chinese food. It was a little after nine, and she was slumped in her seat. I walked over to her and asked her if she was ok. She looked at me and said no. She said, "Whatever relationship I had with my sister is dead." My dad said, "Helen, please."
I was getting a glass of water, and she stood up and walked over to the counter and began to talk. Jonathan and dad went out. I gave her a hug because she needed one, and she started crying on my shoulder. I rubbed her back and listened. When I went to Christine's house later, I felt bad for not being ok. My mother talks in circles. Do I write that way?
I have no problem loving people though I have other worries. I try to act and do what I believe is right. I try to talk less and do more (though I fail). I love knowing things and learning, but when it comes to God I've never done much book-studying beyond reading the Bible. I don't know much about theological scholarship. Likewise, I do not do a rosary a day, carry a St. Christopher's medallion or memorize Saints' names. I'm a lector, but I'm not a great Catholic at all. I have quirks: when I'm scared, I sing the Our Father to myself. But God has always resided more in my heart than in my head and I wonder if this is a shortcoming of mine. I should be strong in both heart and mind. Sometimes I think that these books can be cages. God is larger than our thoughts on him. I'm a simple person. I don't always pray in words because the faith that when I open my heart to Him he can decipher it is a great comfort to me. Words are too frequently not what we'd like them to be. Words, too often, fail to speak.
There's a lot about people that I don't understand.