Saturday, April 12, 2014

Poopy Barbie and Special Intentions

I did a radical thing today: I fulfilled my self-promise to go to Mass and the rosary at 8 a.m. this morning.  By myself.  Too early for drugs.  Sober.

It was nice, especially because Saturday morning is so sparsely attended that Fr. King asked if there were additional special intentions.  Without thinking, I asked for prayers for the painless peaceful deaths of those awaiting death.  Right now I am several degrees removed from three hospice situations, one of which is someone I know.  I hate the idea of the pain these men are suffering, and of the suffering their loved ones feel because of it. 

And saying the rosary out loud -- !  I don't think I've said the rosary with people since grade school.  It's a somewhat more elaborate rosary than the script I use, with prayers for vocations, to St. Michael, St. Gertrude and the long litany it would be dumb to say alone.  The voices together felt strong.  On the other hand, my script breaks each mystery down and I read and meditate on it in a way that is intellectually more satisfying than the group's nominal attention to the mysteries.  But there is something comforting and distinctly NON-intellectual about saying it as a group that is also good.

I had a credit for books from Amazon and ordered a couple of research items.  They arrived in good time but, not needing the books immediately, I didn't open them.  I was astonished when I did because one was a gift from someone I really don't know well, Poopy Barbie. 
OK, the real name is Barbie Potty Training but I like Poopy Barbie better.

I've been fighting the blues -- am fighting them -- taking one step back for every two steps forward (after church I collapsed into House, natürlich, and rose from my non-life only to walk Daisy, which ended up being a social event because everyone is out on the lovely day.  Poopy Barbie dropped into my life like a feather from an angel wing -- or, more aptly, a feather from Divine's boa.

So thank you Divine/Angel.  Barbie is not going to be unboxed but she stands guard at the foot of my bed.  And I feel like somehow I belong to something, although I'm not sure what.


mary ann rodman said...

Frances, I hope you keep posting regularly after Lent is over. I love what you write because it is honest (I have my days when I "collapse" into Law & Order, Criminal Intent...Vincent D'Onofrio episodes only) and funny (Poopy Barbie?) and gives hope to those of us with seemingly unmanageable lives. The trick is not to manage but to keep going, one dog walk, one House episode at a time. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

"And I feel like somehow I belong to something, although I'm not sure what". I understand that feeling, when I feel low and someone gives me some kindness I feel like that. I guess maybe it's humanity I feel I belong to? I don't know, but it gives me some faith to keep trudging along, and that is a lot. It has been nice to read so many posts from you recently. I have been a fan since your first book, I read the article in Oprah and bought it right away. I have read it more than once.

Hilary said...

When we keep a promise to ourselves, it's one of the best feelings in the world. Congrats!

I also think about people who are dying--my uncle in England is dying of brain cancer. I too hope and pray that he won't suffer too much. Most of us worry more about the pain of death than death itself. Thanks for lightening your post with Poopy Barbie!