obscure catholic hymns

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Write where we are

Published November 22, 2018 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

As I have mentioned  a number of times, much of my education took place in Catholic Schools.  (Three actually) Now I am back on the Mother Ship, teaching et, al. basically living the dream.   I do have flashbacks.  In the lexicon of Catholic Education,the students who attend Catholic School have their Religious education needs met during the school day.  The children who attend public schools go to CCD. Not real sure if that’s what it’s still called.  These kids were taught in a less rigid, more folksy-summer-camp environment.

While we had to sing songs like “Lo’how rose ere blooming” ( I swear that song has about thirty verses.) and “Bloom where you’re planted” (I don’t even want to get into the problems I have with that song. Suffice it to say that  The Mom, she with her MRE and me, with my M.Ed and MA. had a conversation that ended with an agreeing to disagree.)

Meanwhile the CCD kids got to sing the rousing song”Thank you Lord for giving us life. Right where we are” by Diane Davis. That song is so rousing and catchy that I remember it after only hearing it once, forty years ago.

I’ve been thinking about that song a lot lately. Not just because I’m in a whirlwind of activity, but also because I am reminding me to be grateful

As for the above mentioned whirlwind:

I have this week, and this week alone, to finish moving out of the house where I have lived for 13 years. This house was selected by the Adulteress when she and EH were first a couple.  I lived here when I was recovering from that time my head blew up, because EH and I WERE STILL MARRIED. I don’t know why the rest of the world seemed to think it was acceptable that she still live here while I was trying to grow a new brain.

Here’s something I’ve never told anyone. (I know, so why not share it with the folk who don’t know me.) When I had finished my recovery and was ready to be released back into the wild, I decided to go back to Farmington and deal with all of the things I left behind there.  I did not stay because EH wouldn’t tell the Adulteress to get out.  So I went back to the desert to figure the rest of it out.

Now if I hadn’t gone back to F-town, I wouldn’t ever have met Actor Boy.   I can’t imagine a life without knowing him.

I really could have done without the heartbreak and angst and everything that followed, but here we are.  So I’m emptying the house (hard to do) And moving into an apartment. That’s actually pretty easy to do.  The hard stuff still has to be faced. My Amanda Friend has made suggestions that make sense. I’m trying to follow that.

I haven’t looked in the box of wedding pictures. I’m not going to have room for the piano. I don’t know what I’m going to do about that.  I’m looking for the box that has my Nativity set and my Christmas stocking in it.   The Mom made the stocking for me when I was a tiny child.

What I truly do not want to face is the eventuality that these parts of my past are gone. Just gone. I know they’re just things, but come on, I got rid of all of the pickled corn, I’ve dealt with the murky pool in the backyard. I said good-bye to Mr. Steve and sat in with his corpse until the funeral home decided to drive the half mile to come get him (I realize that Steve would have been perfectly ok with me wheeling him in his hospital bed down the frontage road to the home. It’s probably better that I didn’t.)  I have lived the last two years of my life without the love thereof because BatBeard’s work takes him elsewhere.

I live with thin layer of panic brewing because the country is being run by an orange madman. I work 10 hour days with very little resources and ever increasing demands.

I shouldn’t have to harness my rage to get over something I’m sure is already gone.

So am I grateful that I grew enough of my brain back to give me the wisdom to know the difference right where we are.