Sunday Pensacola 1.1
Years ago, well it was 1984 or 1985, Brenda, a parishioner who was an education leader in our community, took her daughter, and a couple of other girls from their school, and my Tass, to a dance at a boys' school over the other side of Carrabelle. The several hours they were gone, my anxiety was over the top. Over the top, which is to say I was beside myself, insane with worry about her. Looking back, I know it was ridiculous, but it's my nature and I'm not proud of it. There are lots more stories of my insanity, about all my girls that I won't tell now, another time. When they arrived home that evening and I saw her getting out of Brenda's car, my relief was overwhelming. To which Brenda said to Linda, "Tom loves too much."
Watching me over the years, Linda has converted that to "Tom loves too hard." I think because the intensity of it is so hard on me. At this moment, Sunday evening at Hampton Inn, Tass and family are safely back home in Tallahassee. Joe is still on the road, or at least has not texted me he's home. Malinda is in hospital, doing not "as well as can be expected" but extraordinarily well in view of her deathly critical condition when we arrived at GulfCoastMed last Friday. But my Kristen, and I can say it because she never reads my blog, just left to return to PC ahead of TS Alberto and be there for the last week of school starting Tuesday. I am guessing, but don't know, that Bay District schools will be closed Tuesday. But my child is on the road into the storm clouds. She promised, and is always faithful, to text me when "I'm home." I'll be here waiting.
One never accommodates the terrible franticness. Tom loves, not too much, but too hard. Hard on me.
Which, I realize, is the reason for the ongoingly wrenching anxiety about Malinda.
The future is not in my hands, but she is fine at the moment, and for all your love and prayers and love, I am much obliged. Deeply grateful. One and all, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Life is more than good. Each moment of Life with those we love is irreplaceable. Cherish. Rejoice and give thanks. A moment from now, we may not have them forever, or they us, but this moment Life is Good.
Joe texted, "Just pulled into my garage."
Kristen at 7:12 pm, "I'm here."
T
Watching me over the years, Linda has converted that to "Tom loves too hard." I think because the intensity of it is so hard on me. At this moment, Sunday evening at Hampton Inn, Tass and family are safely back home in Tallahassee. Joe is still on the road, or at least has not texted me he's home. Malinda is in hospital, doing not "as well as can be expected" but extraordinarily well in view of her deathly critical condition when we arrived at GulfCoastMed last Friday. But my Kristen, and I can say it because she never reads my blog, just left to return to PC ahead of TS Alberto and be there for the last week of school starting Tuesday. I am guessing, but don't know, that Bay District schools will be closed Tuesday. But my child is on the road into the storm clouds. She promised, and is always faithful, to text me when "I'm home." I'll be here waiting.
One never accommodates the terrible franticness. Tom loves, not too much, but too hard. Hard on me.
Which, I realize, is the reason for the ongoingly wrenching anxiety about Malinda.
The future is not in my hands, but she is fine at the moment, and for all your love and prayers and love, I am much obliged. Deeply grateful. One and all, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Life is more than good. Each moment of Life with those we love is irreplaceable. Cherish. Rejoice and give thanks. A moment from now, we may not have them forever, or they us, but this moment Life is Good.
Joe texted, "Just pulled into my garage."
Kristen at 7:12 pm, "I'm here."
T