My friend John has gone to heaven and is buried in a cemetery in New Bern, N.C. I just had the thought that I now have one friend buried in a cementary in New Bern and another friend buried under a brick at the beautiful Presbyterian church in the heart of New Bern's downtown.
Today I did not go to church. I needed the day. My stomach was all 6's and 9's. As I am typing I realize this day has felt like two days. I have been busy at some points. It has been a normal day, I suppose. I grew spacey as the day wore on; found myself shook up at the degree of spacey today.
An acquaintance three doors down from me lost her job of 8 years. She was fired on the spot. She says she does not know why they would fire her. She doesn't have any heating because her heating system is out and she does not have the money to fix it and infers on facebook that this may be the tip of the iceberg. She began the post with comments of how her family has let her down even though they know her needs. She expresses her needs clearly and gets nothing back in return. I have known her for a number of years if only by occasional interactions. The self-destruction has begun. The pattern is as familiar to me as the face of an old friend. How do I know this about this woman when we have not spoken other than hellos and good-byes in a number of years? A glimpse of a garbage bag full of empty beer cans told me the story. She has fallen into the arms of her disease. Self-destruction began with the first drink. I know this path. But, she does not ask for help. She blames the world and family and friends for her fate in life. My urge is to close myself off from her. Avoid her. The progression of the disease is difficult to watch. Her vulnerability reminds me of my own.
On a brighter note it is now Monday. A new 24 hours has begun.
My friend John has gone. No turning back! No turning back!
Monday, December 1, 2014
Monday, November 24, 2014
Expect The Unexpected
This week a dear friend of mine passed away. He had been sick for at least 4 months and moving towards sickness long before his death. John was one of the most eccentric people I have ever met. He was also one of the most intelligent, frustrating and loving men I have ever met. We worked together for several years. I directed his work or, more tothe point, I did my best to direct his work. John directed himself despite all attempts to conform him to one standard or the other. Words do little to describe him or the impact he made on my life and will continue to make in my life though he has moved on.
John was shaped by the difficult childhood he endured. He never asked for sympathy,and did not discuss his childhood until he knew you well. As I now know he carried his cards close to his chest. Even as he was dying he surprised me once again when I found out he has a daughter from a first marriage. He never once mentioned his daughter to me yet, Ms. Bea, John's wife assured me that John and his daughter had a great relationship. I am happy in that knowledge.
After a number of years of arguing, imploring, cajoling and outright commanding him to provide me with short reports I realized I was defeated before the battle began. Those years were full of laughing, making fun of each other and finding ourselves with much in common. Time passed and John told me about his paintings. Indeed his art work is phenomenal. Thoroughly researched, based mainly in the Civil War period and stunning in detail and color these paintings caught me off guard. After all the time we spent together he never once mentioned his art yet there it hung in his living room. I am certain my mouth dropped open.
Oh, there were many times I wanted to ring his neck. Nothing was ever simple with John. He defined obssessive compulsive and, despite all I could do, continued to bring me reports of 10 to 20 pages with information sorted, researched and minutely detailed. Nevermind that the information would not be used nor even seen by anyone else. He had a belief that if he continued in his own inimitable way the facts would find their way to the top one day. Conversations led into conspiracy theories of fascinating design. I found myself setting him up for a conversation of sort by dropping one word or sentence. Immediately, as if he had been triggered by an invisible force, John would launch into his theory or thoughts on the subject and I, shame on me, would spend time baiting him, teasing him and generally disrupting him until he showed me he had come to the end of his ability to endure me. I would shut up and he would continue to himself, muttering and figuring, as he did his work.
I met his wife. The mysterious and, by John's reckoning, the loveliest woman with impeccable manners, a great shape and he, the lucky suitor, the envy of many a man. Meeting Ms. Bea, John's darling, told me more about this man than any one thing. She was and is all the things he claimed and more. He loved her with a beautiful love, a devotion deeply ingrained in him and he never once said otherwise or showed shame in bragging about his wife.
After that the three of us became fast friends. Ah...the story goes on for awhile. I retired. John, believing that retirement was a ticket to poverty and death, stayed on despite his detiriorating health. The poverty of his childhood fueled a fear of imminent poverty that none of us could touch or refute effectively. I knew when I left that he was devastated. We both knew things would change for him. Our working relationship had provided an avenue for John to work and communicate in a way that he had not experienced. I suppose my total acceptance and love for him helped others to see him in a different light. As time passed he forged his own friendships and became a familiar figure around the hangars and supply stores. He never conformed. Not one tiny inch. He did allow himself to impact and be impacted by people who learned to be fond of him. In return he gave back a respect and loyalty that humbled more than one person. Once you were in his good favor he would lay down his life for you. He loved God, loved Jesus, loved life. If he could be at his upcoming memorial service he would say, in all honesty and humility, I love all of you so much!
I miss him. I will miss him until we meet again. There is no way to get over John or to emerge from a friendship with him the same as when the friendship began. I want to write and write to keep him alive in this writing. While I am happy here I look forward to the day when John and my many loved ones who have gone before me can be reunited. John, if true to his nature, will stand guard watching and waiting with high expectations for that day to come. Boys! Won't I be happy to see him!
John was shaped by the difficult childhood he endured. He never asked for sympathy,and did not discuss his childhood until he knew you well. As I now know he carried his cards close to his chest. Even as he was dying he surprised me once again when I found out he has a daughter from a first marriage. He never once mentioned his daughter to me yet, Ms. Bea, John's wife assured me that John and his daughter had a great relationship. I am happy in that knowledge.
After a number of years of arguing, imploring, cajoling and outright commanding him to provide me with short reports I realized I was defeated before the battle began. Those years were full of laughing, making fun of each other and finding ourselves with much in common. Time passed and John told me about his paintings. Indeed his art work is phenomenal. Thoroughly researched, based mainly in the Civil War period and stunning in detail and color these paintings caught me off guard. After all the time we spent together he never once mentioned his art yet there it hung in his living room. I am certain my mouth dropped open.
Oh, there were many times I wanted to ring his neck. Nothing was ever simple with John. He defined obssessive compulsive and, despite all I could do, continued to bring me reports of 10 to 20 pages with information sorted, researched and minutely detailed. Nevermind that the information would not be used nor even seen by anyone else. He had a belief that if he continued in his own inimitable way the facts would find their way to the top one day. Conversations led into conspiracy theories of fascinating design. I found myself setting him up for a conversation of sort by dropping one word or sentence. Immediately, as if he had been triggered by an invisible force, John would launch into his theory or thoughts on the subject and I, shame on me, would spend time baiting him, teasing him and generally disrupting him until he showed me he had come to the end of his ability to endure me. I would shut up and he would continue to himself, muttering and figuring, as he did his work.
I met his wife. The mysterious and, by John's reckoning, the loveliest woman with impeccable manners, a great shape and he, the lucky suitor, the envy of many a man. Meeting Ms. Bea, John's darling, told me more about this man than any one thing. She was and is all the things he claimed and more. He loved her with a beautiful love, a devotion deeply ingrained in him and he never once said otherwise or showed shame in bragging about his wife.
After that the three of us became fast friends. Ah...the story goes on for awhile. I retired. John, believing that retirement was a ticket to poverty and death, stayed on despite his detiriorating health. The poverty of his childhood fueled a fear of imminent poverty that none of us could touch or refute effectively. I knew when I left that he was devastated. We both knew things would change for him. Our working relationship had provided an avenue for John to work and communicate in a way that he had not experienced. I suppose my total acceptance and love for him helped others to see him in a different light. As time passed he forged his own friendships and became a familiar figure around the hangars and supply stores. He never conformed. Not one tiny inch. He did allow himself to impact and be impacted by people who learned to be fond of him. In return he gave back a respect and loyalty that humbled more than one person. Once you were in his good favor he would lay down his life for you. He loved God, loved Jesus, loved life. If he could be at his upcoming memorial service he would say, in all honesty and humility, I love all of you so much!
I miss him. I will miss him until we meet again. There is no way to get over John or to emerge from a friendship with him the same as when the friendship began. I want to write and write to keep him alive in this writing. While I am happy here I look forward to the day when John and my many loved ones who have gone before me can be reunited. John, if true to his nature, will stand guard watching and waiting with high expectations for that day to come. Boys! Won't I be happy to see him!
Saturday, November 8, 2014
A Memory
In a small book of quotes from Mr. Rogers he suggests that sharing memories is a great way to spend our times together.
My first conscious memory: I am standing outside of a large, black car. It is about 1954. We live in a small Virginia town. Night has fallen. It must be cold because I am wearing a coat, a hat and maybe gloves. I am upset. I am missing the powder puff to my child's purse size make-up kit. It is a brief memory. I am miserable and intensely disappointed. It seems the powder puff meant a great deal to me. I have a slight sense, in the memory, that my parents have spent more than their usual amount of time trying to help me find it and I know we are going in the house very soon. The memory ends.
These many years later I feel that memory as much as see it. What I see, of course, is the space between an open car door and the inside of the car. What I clearly remember is wanting that powderpuff and being hurt and angry realizing. that the pink container is nothing without the puff.
That's it. Proof that I was once a girly girl!
My first conscious memory: I am standing outside of a large, black car. It is about 1954. We live in a small Virginia town. Night has fallen. It must be cold because I am wearing a coat, a hat and maybe gloves. I am upset. I am missing the powder puff to my child's purse size make-up kit. It is a brief memory. I am miserable and intensely disappointed. It seems the powder puff meant a great deal to me. I have a slight sense, in the memory, that my parents have spent more than their usual amount of time trying to help me find it and I know we are going in the house very soon. The memory ends.
These many years later I feel that memory as much as see it. What I see, of course, is the space between an open car door and the inside of the car. What I clearly remember is wanting that powderpuff and being hurt and angry realizing. that the pink container is nothing without the puff.
That's it. Proof that I was once a girly girl!
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Absence of Audio
My doggone phone is on the blink. No audio. I can text but I don't hear any sounds of the phone at all. No beeping, no playing tunes, no helpful little melody to let me know I have a message. Nada! Nothing! People calling in saying whatever and I can see the seconds going by as I look at my phone. They don't hear me and I don't hear them.
So the answer is to get another phone or only use this one for texting. What a monumental pain in the tush! I am having withdrawals from that little, ridiculously archaic cell phone! ARRGHH-H-H!
I would march off into the land of "off the grid" but I have been watching t.v. and that "off the grid" stuff is not an easy life. Chopping wood, cooking with propane, out houses for toilets, gardening, raising chickens and no electricity. I am simply not fed with creature comforts on that level.
Oh, I once I wanted to be a pioneer. When I was younger I wanted to go back to the "good ole days". Having my illusions shattered by watching the folks on educational t.v. felt funky. I do not like anything that interferes with a dream I want to live out. But the fact of the matter is that I have come to love things like that stupid, little cellphone. I like hot and cold running water and I don't want to think about an out house. I am a poser pioneer! That is just plain sad.
Who knew? A sense of embarassment meets up with my sense of relief. We are all living in one conumdrum or the other. This is one of mine. To be or not to be! That is the question, isn't it?
October 30th A New Dawn
A friend of mine gave me a Nokia Lumina (?) phone that she had dropped in water and thought was done for but placing it in rice and waiting a long time saved the phone. During that time she bought an updated phone and she gave me her dry phone. It is light years ahead of my burnt out flip phone. I have no clue how to use most of the features. I am learning. Like most advances in technology that enter my world I am now spoiled forever for the second cheapest flip phone StraightTalk had to offer. I have a new love. My friend bought the plan, transferred my number and information from my old phone to my "new phone" declaring that she did not intend to go one more day without having access to me. That alone should give a clue to this woman's mental health but who am I to judge. She loves me. She is a blessing in my life. She continually offers herself as a friend, a confidante, a rescuer and I offer whatever it is that she thinks I offer. It seems to work. Has now for a number of years.
So now I have a phone with bells and whistles. Not the most recent on the scene but more than I would have bought for myself. I find that happens to me often. I was given 2 Kindles, my IPAD and now this phone. I did not ask for any of them or even hint strongly. I am not above hinting strongly.
Anyway...it is nearly 3:20 a.m. and I start my first short shift of my job working from home. Why did I choose a 3:20 a.m. shift? Is it because I am mad crazy for that $8.00 an hour? Maybe. The hours add up during the week. The paycheck makes a signifigant difference. No one else from here to Kansas with this company wants to work early hours. When I realize that I have chosen that hour of the morning to start my day I question my wisdom. I wish taking an early morning shift were the deepest wisdom I had to question.
I wish a little girl, not too far from where I live, did not have pneumonia. She is four and yet her tiny body is crippled with severe scoleosis (sp?) and pneumonia could be the beginning of the end of her life. We prayed for her and her family at church last night. I pray now that she has already begun to heal and that her mom and dad will have more time with her. God knows and we placed it in God's hands but did boldly ask.
May the peace of God be with you!
So the answer is to get another phone or only use this one for texting. What a monumental pain in the tush! I am having withdrawals from that little, ridiculously archaic cell phone! ARRGHH-H-H!
I would march off into the land of "off the grid" but I have been watching t.v. and that "off the grid" stuff is not an easy life. Chopping wood, cooking with propane, out houses for toilets, gardening, raising chickens and no electricity. I am simply not fed with creature comforts on that level.
Oh, I once I wanted to be a pioneer. When I was younger I wanted to go back to the "good ole days". Having my illusions shattered by watching the folks on educational t.v. felt funky. I do not like anything that interferes with a dream I want to live out. But the fact of the matter is that I have come to love things like that stupid, little cellphone. I like hot and cold running water and I don't want to think about an out house. I am a poser pioneer! That is just plain sad.
Who knew? A sense of embarassment meets up with my sense of relief. We are all living in one conumdrum or the other. This is one of mine. To be or not to be! That is the question, isn't it?
October 30th A New Dawn
A friend of mine gave me a Nokia Lumina (?) phone that she had dropped in water and thought was done for but placing it in rice and waiting a long time saved the phone. During that time she bought an updated phone and she gave me her dry phone. It is light years ahead of my burnt out flip phone. I have no clue how to use most of the features. I am learning. Like most advances in technology that enter my world I am now spoiled forever for the second cheapest flip phone StraightTalk had to offer. I have a new love. My friend bought the plan, transferred my number and information from my old phone to my "new phone" declaring that she did not intend to go one more day without having access to me. That alone should give a clue to this woman's mental health but who am I to judge. She loves me. She is a blessing in my life. She continually offers herself as a friend, a confidante, a rescuer and I offer whatever it is that she thinks I offer. It seems to work. Has now for a number of years.
So now I have a phone with bells and whistles. Not the most recent on the scene but more than I would have bought for myself. I find that happens to me often. I was given 2 Kindles, my IPAD and now this phone. I did not ask for any of them or even hint strongly. I am not above hinting strongly.
Anyway...it is nearly 3:20 a.m. and I start my first short shift of my job working from home. Why did I choose a 3:20 a.m. shift? Is it because I am mad crazy for that $8.00 an hour? Maybe. The hours add up during the week. The paycheck makes a signifigant difference. No one else from here to Kansas with this company wants to work early hours. When I realize that I have chosen that hour of the morning to start my day I question my wisdom. I wish taking an early morning shift were the deepest wisdom I had to question.
I wish a little girl, not too far from where I live, did not have pneumonia. She is four and yet her tiny body is crippled with severe scoleosis (sp?) and pneumonia could be the beginning of the end of her life. We prayed for her and her family at church last night. I pray now that she has already begun to heal and that her mom and dad will have more time with her. God knows and we placed it in God's hands but did boldly ask.
May the peace of God be with you!
Friday, October 17, 2014
Jeez Louise
I am typing this on the ipad. It has been much longer than I realized since I wrote. Time has melted away. That statement is far too mellow considering the events that have filled up the passage of the time.
I will only say that the past few weeks have been mind numbing. At certain times I have been convinced that I was losing my ability to process information. The truth is that I reverted to survival mode living each hour as it played out. The possibility exists that people meeting me for the first time have walked away puzzled by the distracted woman they met. My thoughts have been jumbled and yet clear as a bell which continues to confuse me.
It is after two in the a.m. I don't feel anxious or depressed. I feel numb. Drifty. And at this point sleepy. Time to allow myself to rest.
Next day and at mom's desktop:
Back at the computer...darn large print will not save so I am just gonna go with this itty-bitty print. And I am going to stop. Time to go back to work. Rats!!
Next day on ipad again:
Visit with shrink today. Questions and answers...back and forth and I came to the realization that my friend John's diagnosis of 3 to 6 months to live is at the center of my angst. The knowledge fades away only to come back to me with a painful realization bringing me to a place I cannot bear. John is dying. John will be gone. John can't go. I want John to stay. Oh, God! John is dying. NO! I cannot allow it. I cannot breathe as the knowledge moves through my spirit, through my heart, through all the memories of time with John and then with John and his precious Ms. Bea. I am distraught. I hate the inevitability of losing John. I'm not ready. I will never be ready. I suspect I will be willing as John's disease progresses. I suspect I will ask God to take Him. I suspect that time is not far of and I feel as if a vast desert has opened up before me. The horizon ripples with the heat of my sorrow. I know God will lift me up to where He desires me to be in a place of love for John and Bea. I know God is allowing me this time of agony and I know that time is nearly over. John is worth the best I have to offer with God's grace covering every step. For now I can nearly stand the pain.
Love lifted me. Love lifted me. When nothing else would help, love lifted me!
I will only say that the past few weeks have been mind numbing. At certain times I have been convinced that I was losing my ability to process information. The truth is that I reverted to survival mode living each hour as it played out. The possibility exists that people meeting me for the first time have walked away puzzled by the distracted woman they met. My thoughts have been jumbled and yet clear as a bell which continues to confuse me.
It is after two in the a.m. I don't feel anxious or depressed. I feel numb. Drifty. And at this point sleepy. Time to allow myself to rest.
Next day and at mom's desktop:
Back at the computer...darn large print will not save so I am just gonna go with this itty-bitty print. And I am going to stop. Time to go back to work. Rats!!
Next day on ipad again:
Visit with shrink today. Questions and answers...back and forth and I came to the realization that my friend John's diagnosis of 3 to 6 months to live is at the center of my angst. The knowledge fades away only to come back to me with a painful realization bringing me to a place I cannot bear. John is dying. John will be gone. John can't go. I want John to stay. Oh, God! John is dying. NO! I cannot allow it. I cannot breathe as the knowledge moves through my spirit, through my heart, through all the memories of time with John and then with John and his precious Ms. Bea. I am distraught. I hate the inevitability of losing John. I'm not ready. I will never be ready. I suspect I will be willing as John's disease progresses. I suspect I will ask God to take Him. I suspect that time is not far of and I feel as if a vast desert has opened up before me. The horizon ripples with the heat of my sorrow. I know God will lift me up to where He desires me to be in a place of love for John and Bea. I know God is allowing me this time of agony and I know that time is nearly over. John is worth the best I have to offer with God's grace covering every step. For now I can nearly stand the pain.
Love lifted me. Love lifted me. When nothing else would help, love lifted me!
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Where Is Everything?
It is Sunday around noon. Normally I would be leaving church about now. My grandson has strep throat so we are home. Doing very little...IPAD....LAPTOP...sleeping, falling asleep. I personally have been on the verge of falling asleep since we returned from the urgent care last night. I have finally gotten up and am in a semi-state of wakefulness. I feel as if I have been drugged. Last night I basically fell onto my bed and slept. Woke up two hours later, took night meds, fell onto the bed again and slept. Woke up at 6 a.m. for a short time with no sense of anything other than a compelling urge to sleep more. At this moment I am on the edge of sleep but trying to be awake to do something around this place. Couldn't text...kept falling asleep. Took me forever to get a text off to my pastor. Fell asleep multiple times.
I have periodic times when my body, especially lower back and legs are in absolute turmoil. My body seems to have gone to war with itself. I am uncomfortable day and night for 3 to 4 days. I bet if I had been paying attention I would find that this absolute exhaustion follows one of those episodes.
Doctors have not made a diagnosis. They give me medication for restless legs but that has no power when an episode hits and fully engages me. My thinking goes fuzzy, I am clumsy, my muscles pull in my feet and my back aches across the lower part. Then it goes away. So weird.
Meanwhile my wonderful grandson is playing music on the ipad and recovering from strep throat and hubby is zonked out in bed. The cats are languishing in various hiding places. No energy here. No smarts to access.
Can't find the thermometer. Can't find triple A batteries. Can't find my arse with both my hands. I am drifting through the day. The entire household is drifting through. If the trailer were moving it would be floating along a few feet off the ground fueled by a serious lack of ambition.
Is this what they call a "lazy sunday"? If my name were Susan I could be a "lazy Susan"! Irrelevelant. So irrelevant.
Hope you are having a lovely Sunday and that you can find your way out of a paperback.
I have periodic times when my body, especially lower back and legs are in absolute turmoil. My body seems to have gone to war with itself. I am uncomfortable day and night for 3 to 4 days. I bet if I had been paying attention I would find that this absolute exhaustion follows one of those episodes.
Doctors have not made a diagnosis. They give me medication for restless legs but that has no power when an episode hits and fully engages me. My thinking goes fuzzy, I am clumsy, my muscles pull in my feet and my back aches across the lower part. Then it goes away. So weird.
Meanwhile my wonderful grandson is playing music on the ipad and recovering from strep throat and hubby is zonked out in bed. The cats are languishing in various hiding places. No energy here. No smarts to access.
Can't find the thermometer. Can't find triple A batteries. Can't find my arse with both my hands. I am drifting through the day. The entire household is drifting through. If the trailer were moving it would be floating along a few feet off the ground fueled by a serious lack of ambition.
Is this what they call a "lazy sunday"? If my name were Susan I could be a "lazy Susan"! Irrelevelant. So irrelevant.
Hope you are having a lovely Sunday and that you can find your way out of a paperback.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Untitled
Untitled as a post title is ridiculous. The moment I keyed it in I realized that Untitled is the title.
Sunday night. I am sitting in my living room with my grandson, my granddaughter a couple of cats and I am as relaxed as I am able to get these days. We are all on an IPAD or laptop. My granddaughter is, in truth, my step-granddaughter. She is 18 years old and she is autistic. She is wonderful and she is absorbed in a world of anime on her IPAD. I am learning to communicate with her in what I hope is a comfortable level for her. She rocks back and forth talking gently to herself and watching anime characters. When she talks to me about it I am fascinated at the intricacy of her anime world. The characters, their names, their family historys and what is to come in the future of that world absorb her.
My grandson is sitting in a rocking chair with my IPAD playing Minecraft...
Monday night. Danielle spent two nights with us. I am certain it has everything to do with internet service. She spends an entire day with her ipad and her anime friends. It is the first time I have spent any time with a young person who is autistic. I did some reading and understand that Danielle responds in true statements with very little fluff, if any, involved. I find that intensely refreshing. The answer is either yes or no, like or dislike. Today she spent the entire day in my room absorbed completely in her own world. Tonight she had to go home as I will not be here much of tomorrow. There is, currently, no internet at her home so she was completely unhappy. I promised to pick her up tomorrow when I get off work and bring her here. I am not sure if she understood that concept fully. I believe her thoughts are rather in the moment and future promises have no true value. What a privilege God is giving me to learn how to communicate with someone who thinks completely different from my way of thinking and what a privilege to have the opportunity to relieve her distress by providing something as simple as wi-fi. After brief reading I accept that our relationship is based almost entirely on the practical need for wi-fi. It suits me just fine. One more person God has placed in my life for me to love and to have love me in her unique and honest way.
Yay, God!
Sunday night. I am sitting in my living room with my grandson, my granddaughter a couple of cats and I am as relaxed as I am able to get these days. We are all on an IPAD or laptop. My granddaughter is, in truth, my step-granddaughter. She is 18 years old and she is autistic. She is wonderful and she is absorbed in a world of anime on her IPAD. I am learning to communicate with her in what I hope is a comfortable level for her. She rocks back and forth talking gently to herself and watching anime characters. When she talks to me about it I am fascinated at the intricacy of her anime world. The characters, their names, their family historys and what is to come in the future of that world absorb her.
My grandson is sitting in a rocking chair with my IPAD playing Minecraft...
Monday night. Danielle spent two nights with us. I am certain it has everything to do with internet service. She spends an entire day with her ipad and her anime friends. It is the first time I have spent any time with a young person who is autistic. I did some reading and understand that Danielle responds in true statements with very little fluff, if any, involved. I find that intensely refreshing. The answer is either yes or no, like or dislike. Today she spent the entire day in my room absorbed completely in her own world. Tonight she had to go home as I will not be here much of tomorrow. There is, currently, no internet at her home so she was completely unhappy. I promised to pick her up tomorrow when I get off work and bring her here. I am not sure if she understood that concept fully. I believe her thoughts are rather in the moment and future promises have no true value. What a privilege God is giving me to learn how to communicate with someone who thinks completely different from my way of thinking and what a privilege to have the opportunity to relieve her distress by providing something as simple as wi-fi. After brief reading I accept that our relationship is based almost entirely on the practical need for wi-fi. It suits me just fine. One more person God has placed in my life for me to love and to have love me in her unique and honest way.
Yay, God!
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