"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  Tonight during RCIA, we spoke a small part about death. And in that talk, the Catholic funeral came up (obviously) in which we place the white cloth (pall) over the casket. The true reason we do this is to symbolize the baptism and purity of the one who has died.   One gentleman, on the older side of life, spoke up and said he and his wife visited the funeral home yesterday to prepare for their death. The funeral director told this man the reason they put the white cloth over the casket was to hide the price of the casket. It could be inlaid with gold or a simple pine box. No one would know.   A symbol of humility in both instances.   At the mention of that, Father mentioned that no matter how big your car the plot size is still the same. My mind began to reel about this simple yet lost idea.   Why is it we try so hard to acquire? Why do we spend so much time trying to gather unto ourselves all things material that will only give us a temporary degree of wealth? And my mind didn&

  When you are born, you are lucky to get one day a year to celebrate just you. Well, you and all the others born on that day. When you become a mother or father, you get another day for just you. Sometimes those days come when you are not ready, and some come when you wish they wouldn't.   Today, 60 years ago, my mother was born. A date that means littler to most people I know than to her or me. As we age, and my mother is no different, our birthdays become just another cycle of the rising of the sun and a following of the moon. Nothing to make a big to do of.   My mother enjoys subtly. She can be dramatic but embraces the subtle acknowledgement of herself. She has ALWAYS placed herself second and counted the accolades of her children as if they were her own. That was one thing my mother NEVER lacked: humility. Which made me often sad she didn't get more than 2 days a year commemorating her.   Mom, I know I've come short. I know that I have openly and often failed to ho

  It was completely unassuming. I tend to be that way at times.   On the night before my 30th birthday, he told me he had 2 questions for me: "How was I going to introduce him to my friends, and would I be his girlfriend." I was confused at the first, a little shocked at the second but said yes, and the rest was history.   Until I couldn't take it. I was drowning in my own past hurts. Being his girlfriend was suffocating me, and I needed to get out. Around August last year I took it back. I told him I couldn't be his girlfriend just yet. It was a word that held too much weight and I couldn't be that. I truly thought he would take off and run away from me. There was a little hope that he would. But...instead since he knew I was a traditionalist and needed the formal asking, he asked me how he would know I was ready. I told him I would ask him the next time. If there was a next time.    I had told him if I asked him, I would give him everything and at that point

  Last year, on this day, I wrote a blog post entitled: "Dehumanizing my savior." It was a confession that I spent the evening waiting for and then dehumanizing my then on-again-off-again boyfriend. I looked him in the eye and told him, "I have been hot and cold because I was disregarding you as a human with feelings. It is easier to pretend you have no feelings to assuage my own self." I sat, at a friend's house that I was sitting for and berated him for my own pain's sake.   Oddly enough, exactly one year later, I sit at the same house, in the same spot, and eagerly await for him to come to me. To love me. To hold me. To tell me that I am his one and only. To spend a few blessed moments together.   What changed?! What could possibly have changed within him to cause me such a turn around? Absolutely nothing.   He is and has always been a constant. He has changed for no one not even me...the one he loved. And a year ago when he responded, "You preten

  I pride myself in a lot of things: my ability to use words, my knowledge in life's simple things, an array of poems, a general understanding of the way humanity should work, and many more. But a lot of times... I get caught up in my pride and I suffer.   As someone who has as recently as 15 months joined the corporate world, I find myself berating my talent and praising my character. When I should do the opposite. It isn't that my character is of ill repute; it is more of the insensitive notion that others can't teach me things.   I have been blessed to have a manager that I love and respect. He reminds me of my father and yet handles me like my mother. He demands much from me, and I push back at every moment I can. I lack the inability to listen with an open mind, and I fail often in the art of accepting fate.   When it comes to the dreaded words such as process and procedures, I get them. I am great at them. I thrive in being the best at them. And no one would counte