Bees in My Bonnet

 It's that time of year for nostalgia. Or for bracing yourself to get through the holidays, if they seem to produce stress of every kind. It's that time of year when hallmark movies may just be tolerable and the time we allow for more cliche than usual. (Well, granted, maybe this is true for some, not all, of you...) It's that time of year when the pressures and busyness mount, and soul pressure builds as well. When we long for reflecting on spiritual depths, but simply can't find time for that. There's shopping to be done, baking to be done ('It's tradition!'), gifts to wrap, parties to attend. And the traditional viewing of movies practices.  For some it is Charlie Brown's Christmas special, which I watched for the first time in my life last year. For some, it's A Christmas Story, with the gaudy stocking lamp. For some, it's A Christmas Carol with Tiny Tim.  For some, it's The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (which I have yet to see in its e

 Sometimes I wonder about things...random things...things that I then wonder if anyone else wonders about. Lately I've been with people in their pain, and with myself in my own, and finding my own pain somewhat inescapable, I began to wonder more about pain - what it does to me, to others, and where does God fit in all this? I haven't spent long on physical pain (" such a bother," I tell myself). Instead, I've allowed my (admittedly very small) encounter with physical pain to launch me into exploration of emotional pain.  Here's the thing: I have a wound on my forehead, covered by a bandaid, and a blog and facebook page where I talk about my wound, and people ask me about it, and it's kosher to talk openly about a physical pain because of the thing on my head. Now let's imagine it differently: what if my pain were in my soul, where I find immovable burdens press down on me and I spend every un-spoken-for-moment in a desperation I can't explain? Wha

A month ago I was meeting with some friends and confessing how I struggle to do the normal medical updates of, like, going to the doctor for an annual physical ('What's with going to the doctor when you're not sick? It's like another chore!') Or, if I did make it to the checkup, to actually schedule all the follow-up things that they send you to.  I've written about having A.D.D. (I like to term it: Alternately Designed Diva), here before, but this is just one more peek into what it's like to live with chronic distraction, impulsivity, procrastination and bizarre rabbit trail hunting. A.D.D. never goes away. It is with me for life. It has affected every area of my life, and the medical realm is not left out of it's clutches. That's why A.D.D. sufferers (and, those who wear it proudly!) need many supports to keep us on track. Like friends. You know, friends who know   things - and will DO things, like, text you the name and number of a dermatologist y

 I fell in love with the book of Psalms when I was a kid. You've probably already gathered that I was a bit of an odd kid. So it may not come as a surprise that I found delight in more unusual things than most kids my age. Like my plastic elephants. There was a phase where we somehow had a bunch of small, plastic, toy elephants. They entered my menagerie of inanimate-object-friends and were ceremoniously lined up with my other imaginary friend-beings. Now, most parents would be delighted to find a daughter in love with the Psalms. Thing is, I didn't want them to know. I didn't want them to think I was spiritual - or something (with emphasis on something). So, I read Psalms with a flashlight under the covers at night and hoped not to get caught. Maybe it was my rebellious streak or something (again, emphasis on something) , but I didn't want it to be known that I secretly found the poetic words so beautiful and gripping. Granted, I also read Charlotte's Web with a fl