Tired, tired, tired..........

Today is one of those days that always reminds me of Ecclesiastes. Hot. Tired. Everything takes too much effort. It all seems such a struggle For what? Another hot, tired day. Every effort seems a waste. Tiredness, exhaustion of body and soul...... ."All day long they foil my plans. Their every thought is of evil against me. They hide together in ambush. They watch my every step. They lie in wait for my life.".......I am too tired to go outside to the garden, so I lie on my bed with a cat or two and my laptop. Even though I explain to the cat that laptops go on laps and he could have my legs, he will have none of it. So the cat sleeps on my lap and the computer becomes a legtop. I write for a while, tire of that, check my email-nope, just letters from lawyers and ministers and dying widows from West Africa, wanting my assistance with large sums of money. Friends are still at work. Hands and feet hurt, they are so swollen. They feel like they might burst with ripeness in the heat. I massage cream onto the stretched skin of one foot, holding on to it so it won't fall onto the bedspread all covered with expensive cream. It may be precious, but not on the spread. At first, my feet feel cool and comforted, and then the burning starts up again, and I can see from the gleam that more oil won't work. I lie in the bed, too tired to move to get the phone that's a foot away from my hand. I think about how I want something to drink, and that I should have turned the overhead fan on before I climbed in. Hot and thirsty, and all I have to to is get up and turn on the fan and then get a diet soda from the fridge, or do I want iced tea? or Italian orange soda? I lie there a while, I don't know how long. To tired to turn and look at the clock. Thomas walks in, all cheerful. Just back from work. He asks me how I am. All I remember is hot and thirsty. Thomas brings me an icy glass of Italian orange soda, and closes the windows-I was too tired to walk from room to room, much less reach to close the windows. Tired tired tired. But not sleepy. What are days like these for? I've noticed that the ringing in my ears now includes Tony Bennett singing his heart out on one note while the percusionist drums away, all the drums and the cymbols, too. If only the one note would turn into a song. Go somewhere. Then I could say I have my own personal radio station that plays jazz in the afternoon.....evening......still singing that note, Tony. You gotta improvise. Help that poor drummer out, he's exhausted. The phone rings. Now I find I can reach it. Trouble, she says. Steve has come home, a friend has come over. Steve helps me out of bed and on to the couch. I am seeing double, I still hear Tony and the drums. I ask the friend to sit on the coffee table so I can hear. We talk about Trouble......."You scandalous liar. All day long you plot destruction. Your tongue is like a sharp razor, you skillful deceiver".....what to do. Love. Love is the answer. Even though the deceiver grows stronger, only love, love. We pray together-"thy will be done".
Steve and our guest go to the back to look at the garden. I want to see it too. I get up, the world spins spins spins. I don't have any shoes. I spin my way to the back door in time to the drums in my head, and Tony's one note. I go outside and stand with them, looking at the sliver of a moon. Fingernail moom! my daughter used to say in wonder. We talk about the phases of the moon, the trees to be planted tomorrow. We stand together in Love. We will trust in God's faithful love forever and proclaim before the faithful "God's love is good!"The friend leaves, Steve goes to the kitchen to scrounge up a dinner deferred. Tony still can't sing that tune, and the poor drummer...

Making Light: Salwar kameez

I have been carrying on a conversation at Making Light: Salwar kameez
for some time. There are several of us that enjoy wearing Indian clothes, because they are so comfortable and attractive, as well as being good for lying around in. Three of us started wearing them because of illness. Who wants to open the door at 1:00 PM in their pjs ? Actually, salwar kameez is where we get pjs. They come from kurta pyjama, the men's version- a long loose shirt over loose pants. We like wearing the daytime version. The discussion is about experiences wearing them in public, online stores where we have had good (and bad) experiences, and a side discussion about having illness that causes chronic fatigue. We are finding that lots of people are reading it, including salwar kameez manufacturers. It amazes me that 3 disabled housewives can have an impact on the industry.

here I am in my favorite sari

I'm not exactly the most svelte person, but the sari is beautiful anyway. Half my wardrobe is now either saris (which I wear rarely) or salwar kameez, (which I wear often). I think I'm a bit too large to carry off a sari right now, but that will change. This sari is a handloom ikat. Part of why I like it is that it is handmade, the work of human hands. It amazes me, the beauty and delicacy of handloom fabrics, that we can make things like this with practice and persistance. In this country we have, for the most part, lost the notion that we can make beautiful useful things ourselves. We run out and buy a wooden spoon. But what if we spent a couple evenings with a knife and made our own. Wouldn't it have more meaning to us? It's no longer just a spoon, its the spoon that I made. I learned to weave a little before I got too sick. I wove a table runner as a first project. I feel very different about it than machine made runners in my drawer. I have something approaching the same feelings towards the two hand woven runners I have. This kind of handwork is something that makes us truly human. We create something, from beginning to end and see that it is good. It is an act of co-creation with God.