indeed.
ZeeMuzzy: shouldn’t be long now. wait for it…
PhyllisLorimer: Waiting. Nothing yet.
ZeeMuzzy: wait for it…
PhyllisLorimer: Waiting with anticipation and mortal dread.
ZeeMuzzy: 3…2…1…
| From: | P. Lorimer <[email protected]> |
| To: | Zelia Muzuwa <[email protected]> |
| Subject: | Nothing! |
How very odd—six hours later and no response! I wonder what happened to her?
Phyllis
| From: | Zelia Muzuwa <[email protected]> |
| To: | P. Lorimer <[email protected]> |
| Subject: | Re: Nothing! |
Huh. Therapy session run long, maybe?
Z
| From: | VIM <[email protected]> |
| To: | SAHM I Am <[email protected]> |
| Subject: | Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW June 1: Total Honesty |
Okay, y’all… I mean, all of you (sorry Ros),
All y’all (argh, I can’t help it! I may not be native Texan, but I tell you… I have the soul of one!)—anyway, you all have inspired me with your honesty, so here’s what’s going on in lil’ old Ronnie’s corner of the earth…
Ashley’s now thirteen years old, and as determined to make her momma miserable as ever a teenager was. Keeps talking nonsense about how she wants to go live with her “real mom” instead of her dad and me—despite the fact that “Real Mom” sent BACK the Christmas presents the kiddos made for her last year! I know Ashley’s just trying to annoy us, but it’s super irritating to have to admit it works.
Courtney’s nine and Stanley’s seven. And other than the sibling war that the two girls have been waging since…birth, I guess, they’re not doing too badly.
And my baby, Stephenie is eighteen months old now! I shouldn’t phrase it like that, I suppose. I feel like the other three are mine, too, after being the only real mama they’ve ever had for three years now. But y’all know what I mean, I hope.
Lest you start thinking this is sounding an awful lot like a Christmas newsletter, I’m saying all this because of the thing I want to talk about for this Honesty topic of the week thingy.
Frank, my sweet Francesco, has been telling me that since the kids are getting older and especially with Ashley being a pain in the behind lately, and also since he wants to avoid the mistakes he made with his ex…
He thinks we should try attending church! His family back in Italy is 100% Catholic, and he’s wanting to check out our local parish.
I know most of you all on this loop are churchgoing folks, so this is where that hard-core honesty is coming in for me. I’m not real sold on the idea of going to church. I don’t think it’s very responsible of us to expect religion to solve our problems or fix our kids. You all are generally sincere and genuine people, and I respect that. I’m just not sure I’m the religious type.
But Frank really is pushing for it. I told him if he wanted to take the kids and go, I wouldn’t put up a fuss. But he doesn’t want to go without me. Not sure if there’s a sentimental reason for that or if he just doesn’t want to handle all four kids by himself. But we’re kinda at a standoff with it.
And that there’s my confession. Hey…confession! I don’t need to go to church. I’ve got all of you.
Veronica
| From: | Iona James <[email protected]> |
| To: | SAHM I Am <[email protected]> |
| Subject: | [SAHM I AM] An Honest Greeting From Iona |
Dia daoibh! (“Hi there” in Gaelic),
I will not reveal my given name, but I am called Iona—ever since I discovered that my great-great-grandmother was born there. I had a dream about her three years ago and she called me “her Iona.” When I woke up, I knew I had been renamed. I’m studying Gaelic, but it’s slow going because I don’t have anyone to practice it with.
I am a poet and songwriter for my husband’s band, Broken Wrench and Copper Bucket. I’ve recently joined your lovely little brigade because the Angel Child (my ten-month-old, Gabriel) and I are trying to learn our Life Dance with each other a bit better—and we’ve been stepping on each other’s toes too much.
My moment of utter honesty is thus:
I never intended to become a mother. What started as a moment of passion has become a never-ending progression of confusion. I love the Angel Child, but I don’t understand him. And the more I become his mother, the less I understand myself, as well.
I can’t share further with you right now, but I will in time. At the moment, I’m waiting for Francine to return. I was soaking up the beauty of God’s Word this morning and felt a strong urge to open the Bible to a random page. Every time that happens, it’s always a life-changing moment for me. So I did, and my finger landed on Psalm 141:2 “May my prayers be counted as incense before Thee; the lifting up of my hands as the evening offering.”
And I knew. It was clear to me that God was calling me to burn incense in our apartment so that we would no longer view prayer as something we do, but something we live. So I took the Angel Child and was on my way to a Tats ’N Wicks shop three blocks away to buy incense. But the Angel Child’s diaper sprung a leak about a block from our apartment. Just as I turned around to go home, a woman appeared and asked if she could help me. She said her name was Francine, and that she has eight children of her own and spent twenty years as a stay-at-home mother. I gave her twenty dollars and asked her to pick out something that smelled like Jesus and bring it to my apartment.
I believe God gave me that scripture verse so I would meet Francine today. She’s a treasure and blessing. She looks like a homeless prostitute—probably a meth addict. But Jesus visits us in the most unlikely disguises.
We’re going to invite her to live with us for a while.
May you live in the divine mystery of God, my friends, Iona James
| From: | Brenna L <[email protected]> |
| To: | “Green Eggs and Ham” |
| Subject: | Re: [SAHM I AM] An Honest Greeting From Iona |
What was THAT???
