born again.

i officially have a cold. i'm sporting a 100.1 degree fever, right nostril breathing, sneezing, and pink cheeks. i'm gorgeous.

before i collapsed--a wheezing whiny thing--on my bed for the afternoon, i gardened.
i do not garden. i had volunteered to help with cleaning for the magdalene house, an amazing project that my priest, becca stevens started. (please, please read more about this HERE.)

my volunteer job was to hoe a weed-infested garden all morning. i found out that i have a talent for hoeing (um, right...anyway,) but more than that, i learned that i believe in the Gospel, because i saw Jesus today.

i've always been a do-gooder in theory, but when it comes to actually connecting with the people i'm do-gooding for, i'm not the best girl. what could a girl like me possibly have in common conversationally with a former prostitute, four months clean, living in a rehab environment, picking up the pieces of her life? the answer--i found out today--is: much.

i met two wonderful women today. one has been clean for 4 months, the other, 8 months. they told me stories of fierce independence and, through their experience at magdalene, having to let themselves be cared for by someone else. they struggle with trust, autonomy versus community, who drank all the orange juice. in short, they're girls just like me, trying to make sense of their lives.

certainly, these women have lived a sort of violence and brokenness that i cannot comprehend, but hope is hope, and we're all struggling to keep tight hold of it.
these women are the kingdom of God. and i sat on their front porch today.

(they invited me back for a barbecue.)

ok. going to sleep now.

one nostril.

i think i'm coming down with something; i can only breathe through one nostril.
it all started with a couple sneezes. ick.

figures. of course, i pushed too hard this week.

there is some sort of pungent, chemical paint-ish smell wafting from the vents tonight. they're painting in the basement, and through one nostril, i'm choking on fumes.
however. i'm listening to my new sarah harmer cd: songs for clem. clem is her dad. he is apparently a big fan of old standards, because i'm listening to "your cheatin' heart" right now, after "just a closer walk with thee". sarah recorded this cd with friends and clarinets and guitars on her back porch. (you can hear crickets sometimes.) nice. a distraction from the fumes burning holes in my lungs.

i became an npr member today. finally, after years of phone-a-thons, they got me. i knew that if i did not commit, i could never listen to all things considered with a clear conscience again. robert siegel and/or noah adams would begin to give me the news and wacky slice-o-life stories, and my stomach would churn in knots. if i did not become an npr member today, i would be a thief. a criminal. or worse, i'd have to give up npr altogether and listen to ja-rule and linkin park (while holding out for *nsync) every morning on my drive to work.

so. i became a member. and now i'm awaiting my very own mug. yeah!

more tomorrow.
the fumes are making me sleepy. oh no. what if i don't wake up?
(if you don't hear from me tomorrow, send a search party...)

stressful week and me: a melodrama.

has it really only been three days since my last post? sheesh. gone are the carefree days of blogging and saddle-buying, horseback riding and sunburn; this is the work week. this is the school week with projects due. this is the week of GMA (which stands for gospel music association, not good morning america. [though sometimes i wish it meant the latter.])

translation: this is the week when i travel on autopilot and try to ignore the thick black circles under my eyes.

translation of translation: i pretend to be traveling on autopilot, when in reality, i am an emotional basketcase who suddenly realizes that she cannot handle the pressure of a demanding week. furthermore, i suddenly become entirely too aware of all the suffering in the world and how i am completely inept at alleviating it in any way at all. i come to the conclusion that i am a fake. i cannot do anything right. everyone else is better than me. i am a failure, ultimately.

and it is only tuesday (?)
wow. time is not consistent. my minutes have consisted of 73 seconds each this week. really.

sometimes, i just want someone to say, "Anne, these feelings of panic and bigness are quite valid. you're not overreacting, and everything you're telling me is probably right: you'll never make it through this week, you may just die before the day is over, and your life is, in fact, meaningless." now that is what i call commiseration!

however, it's probably better that my friends respond to my stressed, neurotic self with, "i love you. and once you get a few hours' sleep, you'll feel much better."
(blah blah blah.)

all that to say: tonight, i blog. i read my week-old issue of rolling stone. i watch the osbournes. i email friends who have received despairing emails from me in the past two days with four letter words that were probably inappropriate and melodramatic. my apologies. i was just a little stressed out.

it's amazing what a post-nine o'clock, pressure-free evening can do.
i feel better.