Waiting For Pork Butt To Cool

Hello, Friends. It's Saturday night. I have a few minutes to wait, and thought I'd do a little journaling. 

We are now in November, and for me this is an increasingly challenging time emotionally. As the days so full of grief last year approach again, I am challenged to not hide away until next June. Of course, when sadness threatens to take me out, I imagine what my Mother would say. It sounds something like, "But, I'm in Heaven! I'm supping with the Lord!" 

Imagined conversations do not really heal our sad hearts, though. I think that is just a matter of time. Lots of time. And, then accepting the fact that we never stop missing. Since Mother left this earth, several have been kind enough to share their stories with me, and it doesn't matter how long their loved one has been gone. Their eyes till begin to glisten. Isn't true love worth a glisten two or thirty years down the road? I think so.

I am making this meat as a practice run for Wednesday night's Community Supper at the Ladder House. We have undertaken a big work there, but several are extending their hands to help, and I believe even more are praying. I will not share all that I see in my spirit, but I am grateful for vision. I am grateful for faith to believe for things my hands cannot do.

LATER...

Pork is pretty tasty. I'm pretty pooped. I think it's time for some tea in my big, Boston mug.