I called my husband after finishing lunch to see if I could stay a little longer to make rosaries. One of the sisters is known for making over a thousand of them. She was going to come over to the Dominican guest house and teach me and the other woman who also was visiting. I was already staying longer than I’d originally planned and was starting to feel like it was time to head back.

But the sister who was hosting seemed to want me to stay. The other sister was taking time out of her day to come over, so I understand. It turned out to be fine, though I didn’t get the entire rosary finished. I worked on it for about an hour before saying that I really needed to start packing up. She showed me how to finish the hail Mary’s and Our Fathers that meet at the end to form a cross.

So I do know how to make rosaries now, which is cool. I also had a wonderful time at the “motherhouse”. The other visitor who was there was named Rebekah. She’d driven all the way from Minnesota. All Friday evening and Saturday morning, when our host sister was introducing us to any sisters we’d run into or who came up to us, she would say, “This is Rebekah and Rebekah.”

Probably three-fourths of the time they’d say in response, “Oh my! Two Rebekah’s!” And then the host sister would tell them that not only were there two Rebekah’s, there were two Rebekah T.’s. Rebekah T. and I would look at each other again and smile, shrug our shoulders, whatever we would do, laugh even. It never got old and really was funny. Several had lived in Minnesota before.

There’s too much to say and not enough energy. We were meeting my mother-in-law and sister-in-law for supper. I came home and heard about the things that I’d missed. Casper had been up in a tree the whole night before finally coming down sometime in the mid-morning. They’d tried several times to get him down but you really can’t force cats to come out of trees until they’re ready.

I came home and laid down. We didn’t even walk around that much but it had been a fuller day of visiting and talking. I told Josh I wasn’t going to sleep I was just going to rest until it was time to leave. He had a board meeting that morning and that had gone well. There’s a guy who is coming to harvest red oaks and walnut trees. I didn’t ask about the HSA, I figured I’d ask about that later.

There is a difference between sisters and nuns. Nuns are part of the avowed religious life but remain cloistered and devoted to a life of prayer. Sisters also take vows but are not cloistered. Much of what they do includes being involved in parish and community service. Our sister host was very kind and hospitable and I enjoyed being with her. It was good to be there and good to come home.

Before my father-in-law came home on hospice, he asked if we thought he was doing the wrong thing by giving up. We were up in his hospital room with the boys. There hadn’t been any decisions made about not going to St. Louis, but we had all expressed feeling uneasy about sending him there. I didn’t know what to say to him and fumbled out something about him not really giving up. Later I texted my mother-in-law with more clear thoughts and feelings.

In the days following his death, my mother-in-law kept saying how she had no regrets. She’d always believed in fighting for him, and doing what needed to be done for him. In his final days he was home and he was comfortable. In the earlier days he was awake and talking and was just like himself. After weeks and months of him being in and out of the hospital, it felt so good to all be back in the house again where we have lived and spent so much time together.

I do have regrets, two at least. The first is that I didn’t visit him more. I had rubbed his belly with oil and advocated for his admission, but after that I didn’t go back, not as often as now I wish that I would have. I wasn’t really thinking in terms of limited time. Once everything was figured out, stabilized, once he was strong enough to come back. But things kept happening and he didn’t get better. He wasn’t getting stronger. He never did get to use his ramp.

The second regret I have is that during one of the earlier nights before we left, I was in with him for a while by myself. I wanted to tell him thank you for everything he’d done for me. There really is a phenomenon that happens where your entire life with that person begins to flash before your eyes. You start to remember things you’d forgotten about. The major times you spent together stand out. I realized how much I loved him and how much he had loved me.

I don’t know why I didn’t say anything then. But my mom ended up telling him for me several days later. My parents came up on the Saturday before he died, which was one of the last times I saw him truly awake and talking. He and my dad were talking about heaven and seeing each other there. My mom told him thank you for loving me, for treating me as his own, and for being there so much for our family. He and my dad shook hands. Mom kissed his forehead.

My sister-in-law is in town again for a few days. She’s here to help my mother-in-law start the process of going through their things in the house and packing up what can be packed to move. The builder says their new house might be done by Christmas, but that would be a stretch. I was relieved to hear that. Originally they were thinking things might be done around Thanksgiving and she could be moved in by Christmas. Those already busier holiday weeks just seemed like a terrible time to try to move.

I thought a little bit more about the question I’d been asking regarding why I can’t ever seem to get it completely right. Basically what it all boils down to is that we have to have things that are keeping us humble. If I got everything right all time I’d be prideful. Do I wish I had the kind of brilliant, jaw-dropping verbal mastery and intelligence of people like Jordan Peterson or C.S. Lewis? Yes, I do and I think that’s pretty normal.

But it isn’t even that. Or rather it isn’t even only that. I was thinking about my grades desires and what that’s all about. I want to be smart. I want something I can hold up and show my husband and kids and say, “Hey, I actually am not a dummy.” But I also guarantee that absolutely no one on their death bed is ever saying to anyone, “Somewhere in a drawer is my report card…” Here is what I actually want, and believe always I have: “Hey, if you can do that, great, but ultimately? That isn’t what I love about you.”

I’m feeling better than I was last Tuesday at this time. Yesterday as I was coming inside after taking a walk for basic leisure and as a general way to deal with stress I was hit with the thought that I was scheduled to present on my journal article that night. Was it at the very top of my assignment list that I’d very recently typed out? Yes. Had it completely slipped my mind over the weekend until that moment? Also yes.

It boggles my mind that even when I take steps to be proactive with an issue, I still cannot seem to completely get it right. This isn’t me trying to be cute or subtly deep. It really does confound and bother me. I was wondering where I even get the idea in the first place that things can change. Why do I keep thinking that if I just try hard enough or do something different enough, things could finally change?

So I did get that done. And I was thankful to the Lord for reminding me of it. This morning I dropped off the boys at school and had about 30 minutes to sit in a coffee shop waiting to meet a friend for coffee. Or tea. I’ve been trying to do something on my papers each day, even if it is only finding a source. In that half hour I found two sources for my Multicultural paper, and then tried to do some of the reading.

We talked about our college boys. If I think about him too long I still could cry, but otherwise I feel like that pain has soothed. I was trying to think of how I’d describe it. It wasn’t a break and it wasn’t a cut. It was a separation that happened between us (I told you I’d cry if I thought about it). But he has his different life out there now. It’s a life that is less bound up in my thoughts and not part of my day to day anymore.

I heard back from one of the sisters today. She asked if I’d be staying the night. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I live close enough that I wouldn’t need to, but then again it might add to the whole experience of the matter. I don’t have a schedule yet of what we’d be doing other than meeting for community prayers, meals, and Liturgy. Today the weather is very nice. It was almost 70 degrees today.

The kids said something to me this morning about going to church. I’d already been resolved and had reminded myself last night that we were going. We pulled into the parking lot at 9:02. The plan today was to meet Grandma and Dad at MCL after church for lunch. I braided my hair in the van before walking in, already internally feeling the shame that it really is me that causes us to be late. I don’t know if lateness is a moral deficiency worth feeling shame over. There are by far worse things I know. But it’s interesting, even when time itself has adjusted around us, just how much we are creatures of habit.

We celebrated All Saint’s Day today. I know this shouldn’t be anywhere above Easter or Christmas, but today it felt like my favorite Sunday in the church year. Every year it comes around I feel this way. And again, with all the hymns that exist praising God and telling his wonderful, beautiful story, on this day For All The Saints is once again my favorite hymn. Not only is it beautiful in lyric and song, there is no other hymn that makes me feel so seen and full of hope. It perfectly tells the story of us. Most every other Sunday it’s Jesus’s story told, as it is only perfect and right for that to be the case.

But on All Saint’s Day, it’s like Jesus says, “You know, you all are important too.” And of course we are. For as the church we are the bride of Christ. He loves us. Everything he went through down here was for us. Just as in this song, we get the small feeling that everything we went through down here was for him. Every time we persevered, every time we said no to sin and evil, every time we felt like there was no point, or hope, or much time left in living, the Lord was reminding us it wasn’t for nothing. It all had a purpose and it all still does. The living reigning others say it’s true. He has lifted us up.

Today was a longer day of finishing writing assignments due by tonight. We had a 3-5 page reflection paper due for one class and 5-7 Image of God essay due for another. For pretty much every class we’ve had to write something about the image of God. I even started looking through my google docs to see if there were any past paragraphs I could just stick in there toward the end of this last one. And then I was just like, “Oh whatever”. It was easier just to write the paragraph and that point.

It feels nice to have this other more laid-back teacher again. I have missed her quirky realness that pretty much goes on through the entirety of the class. I remember the first time I had her. I can’t remember what she said or did but I distinctly remembering being slightly taken aback, maybe even disappointed, thinking to myself, “Wait. No. You’re the one who’s supposed to have everything together.” She just makes me laugh with her verbal processing and occasional oversharing where she just tells us things.

Dad and the kids had a work day today. There were picnic tables to move and woodpiles to replenish. Several others showed up to help too so that was good. I took a break around 11AM to take a walk and see what everyone was doing. They were over by the CGC. One of the boys was holding Casper who was playing and hanging around with the others. Another started making a fire in the firepit. I was feeling rather somber for a lot of the day. I was thinking about how God is in charge of our health.

Besides the research papers which I find to be more difficult, some of these assignments I actually somewhat am excited about. One of the things we’re supposed to for our Multicultural Counseling class is write a 5-page essay on an Ethnographic Observation experience. We are to show up in a place that gives us the experience of “other”. It also cannot be a place where we would be in a position of power. All of this needs to be approved by our professor. I first asked if I could visit the local public high school. She said if I was visiting a public high school in Chicago that might work, but in a school around here I would have a position of power.

So then I started looking to see if there were any nearby monasteries or convents. I found an event that is happening next weekend at a local convent in Springfield. It is an opportunity for single Catholic women ages 21-45 to come and see what the sister life is like. My professor said this event would work as long as they would be okay with me coming. The event organizer said there was only one other woman who is registered so far and that it would be okay if I came.

For this same class we watched a movie called The Color of Fear. It was a gathering of men including white but mostly non-white men. During the movie there was a heated exchange between one of the black men and one of the white men. The black man had spent a significant amount of time trying to explain to the white man the way the white man benefits from being white, as well as the black man’s pains that come from the color of his skin. The white man kept trying to reassure the black man that he as a white man did not look down on the black man for being black. He didn’t see himself as having any unfair advantages or positions of power because he was white. “I see you as human”, he kept saying, “there is no difference between us”.

This enraged the black man. And then I learned something. An attitude that I had always thought was one of respect, the idea that “you are no different from me”, is one that the other can find deeply hurtful and inaccurate. The black man wasn’t satisfied with simply being human. He wanted to be more than that but also never anything less. He wanted to be seen for who he was and not have differences swept under the rug by well-meaning generalizations like “human”. I’d never heard anyone say that before.

So while I found myself empathizing greatly with the white man, and felt like he was being unfairly ganged up on, I could also dimly see the point of the other man who felt like being called and seen as human was a devaluing of his identity and status and not an elevation of it. He wanted people to see his color, because to him his color meant something about his life and existence. And so I grew in my compassion, for the black man, for the white man, and for every other man who never meant to misunderstand.

It probably wasn’t realistic to say I wouldn’t talk about school. I kind of have to talk about it because it involves so much of what I’m doing right now. I think I’ve kind of downplayed the space this has been taking up in my life. At times it really doesn’t seem like that much. I consider it to be something that is feeding me and contributing to my health and well-being rather than something that is taking from it.

But there are times when it seems to be taking up more space, time, or energy than I currently have to offer. I felt a little validated when I added up the hours of weekly practicum and on-campus class time and it comes out to the close equivalent of a part-time job and that is not counting the outside time spent on homework. So I would say that especially this semester school has been between a full and part-time job. It helps to see it in that perspective and that the time I’m spending is contained in something.

I do still feel like I’m having some kind of increased “flare-up” of fatigue and the nervous symptoms. I just limit my activity and stay where I can rest. It still seems strange to me that these weird health things are even still something I’m dealing with. I’ve forgotten what it’s like now to have been the other way, where I didn’t think about and have to manage it daily. But even so there is blessing and I’m thankful for that.

Casper is still hanging around the outside of the house. Today he came with me for a walk. He likes to be held and picked up and fed. He let me hold him all the way from the house down the camp road and back. The other outside cats have their routines where they disappear and go do things but Casper doesn’t know his way around as much yet.

I took him down to the beach. He seemed interested in the canoes but I wasn’t in the mood to stay down there very long. It’s sad to me when the beach turns cold and we aren’t able to swim in the lake anymore. Until the ice returns there doesn’t seem to be much point in being down there.

Cats really are cute. They have brought us so much amusement over the years of living here. When we homeschooled there was always some kind of cat drama happening during school time. The two sisters would be fighting up in a tree. Our neighbor’s dog would be chasing another one. Kittens joined us while kids worked in the schoolroom.

Today I spent some time going through my assignments and combining them into a single list with due dates so I can see what is going on and what needs to done when. I’ve concluded after doing this that the rest of the semester is pretty much going to suck. I’m not going to talk about it. I’m not going to complain about it. I’m basically just going to try and do something each day to contribute toward getting everything done.

There’s this woman whose blog I used to follow who writes on Substack now. At first it seemed like kind of a new and rarer thing but now I can’t even tell you how many people’s Substack letters I’ve subscribed to and it really isn’t all that many. The only ones I regularly read are moms from Instagram or moms from blogs.

I don’t like writing blogs when all of my kids are not at home. My daughter was out tonight for a youth group meeting with Miles. They don’t understand the whole mom/parent thing where you can’t really relax and be at peace for the night until all of your kids are home from wherever.

The kids said they had a good Halloween. Josh is typically the Halloween person who gets the kids excited and works on finding costumes. He hadn’t really had much time or energy to do that this time, so he bought a bag of candy and last night took it out into the athletic field and was tossing it up into the air for the kids to catch.

I don’t know what it is about this one teacher that makes me feel like she can just stab at my heart for some reason. For the past several days I’ve been staying mostly in bed, waiting for my body to recover from the month. Parts of Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and today I’ve just been here wondering whether or not I should try to go to class. We’re supposed to watch a movie tonight and then write one of our three reflection papers on it.

So I told her that I wasn’t sick or contagious, but that I’d been feeling very run down and tired for the past several days. I debating whether or not to come to class and was wondering if I’d be able to make up the class work or access the movie from home. She said there is one copy of it in the library but another student who will be missing class for being out of town will also be trying to check it out. It’s an educational video that isn’t online anywhere. So it seemed, she said, like it would be up to me to decide on how I was feeling and whether or not I felt like I could get a hold of the movie. And I debated whether or not to even send the email in the first place. Because if it ended up going like this, then I’d just told her something more personal about myself.

It’s not like she’s not nice. But for whatever reason interactions with her can produce that sharp and sudden piercing of the heart feeling. And really I’m just tired of dealing with this and it being something that I don’t even know how to begin to explain to other people. I’m sure professors have their days when they are run down and more tired as well, and what are they supposed to do? Just not show up? I told her thank you and that I’d plan on being there.