The sun was shining when I first realized how much my head hurt this morning. Yesterday had been too much on top of a week that was too much and I finally took half a sleeping pill when at one o'clock in the morning I was still wide awake, but then of course, slept too hard. But the sun was shining and it is Mother's Day.
I dragged a big ol' chair into the sun on the back porch out of the wind and sat with a coffee until almost noon. I knew the caffeine was better for me, over all, than more drugs. The pain began to subside and I started to run a hot shower.
Last night when I got home from the retreat I led over the weekend it became apparent that something was missing. My phone. And then, my computer. And then, my pj's. I had packed all the retreat materials in my car and left all my personal effects in the little room at the retreat center. The only solution was to drive down highway 27 back the way I had come home and pick everything up. Of course, when I got there everyone who'd served the retreat had gone home or shopping or to a movie, and the building was locked up. Mercifully, I remembered the code for the lock and it hadn't yet been changed, so I was able to 'break in', search the office and find my room key, walk the long dark hallway and retrieve my stuff. I made sure the door locked behind me.
The thought of returning to my empty home with all the tension of the week still in me was not hopeful. So I drove past my exit and headed toward the local theatre. 'Gatsby' was the only possibility for me - I don't do Iron Man, etc. - and although I had heard the effects were overdone I took my seat and enjoyed the movie. The effects were overdone. I got home late, overstimulated.
So it was that I came to Mother's Day.
After my shower I felt fairly awful, rolled on the bed and had a nap, and finally killed the headache. And my hair. Small problem only.
Three commitments remained. The first was the Cardiff funeral home in Lexington where the visitation for a young mom from the seminary, killed in a traffic accident, was being held. I had a bit of business to do with the owner as well, and spent a little time with the family. The second commitment was a celebration at the home of a dear friend who was introducing her long lost sister (she had been born in Germany and adopted by an American family) to friends. Her sister looked so like her I had laughed right out loud. The moment was wonderful. I'm sort of partial to adoption reunions. I sat with her sister and ate crustless chicken salad sandwiches and listened to them interrupting each other with their story of being lost and found. Being there to share the miracle of discovery and love was such a privilege! From there I drove to Kerr funeral home for the visitation of a woman from our church who's inner pain had become more than she could bear. The line was long and slow. I didn't mind.
The clock on my car dash read seven o' two when I pulled out from Kerr's, driving in my bare feet because my left shoe was hurting the arthritis in my middle toe. Since I was in the city I stopped at a good Chinese restaurant and ordered a take out of chicken dumplings. Then home.
I tried to watch TV but inside I was still restless so I made a practice cake for my granddaughter, Megan, who makes cupcakes. The cake pans I got for her are shaped like a huge cupcake, and I wanted to be sure it would cook properly before I gave it to her. It did.
Then I covered all the plants with plastic bags and my scarves because the night air might sink down to freezing. Before I go to bed I will build a fire in the pit beside the wisteria to keep it from freezing.
It is Mother's Day. My daughter and sons have nudged me with loving hellos. The day was full of real moments of life. New life and death are almost the same thing, when you experience them side by side. They are small gasps in time where the walls between eternity and dailyness are thin and everything/everyone seems precious.
Happy Mother's Day.