Living At Wit's End

Lately my heart has been heavy to the point of breaking.   There is so much pain and suffering, meanness and ugliness, violence and hatred in the world.   I’ve written before that life is hard and just when I think it can’t get harder or more complicated it does.   It always seems like I’m being pelted with snowballs and I have no snow to return fire with.   The wind is knocked out of me and before I catch my breath another follows quicker than the last. I’m not just speaking about the mess and chaos in my life, I’m talking about the rest of life, the part that happens out beyond my front door, beyond my neighborhood, beyond my community, beyond my town, beyond my state or even my country.   Although for the first time massive violence happened not just in my state and town but my own backyard, right next to one of my doctors’ offices and shopping plazas.   Not once but two days in a row. As it unfolded I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.   ...

When I was little probably five or six, I took ballet lessons along with my friend that lived across the street from me.   To be honest I don’t remember a whole lot about the lessons themselves.   What I do remember is the recital we had.   This is probably because of the two 8 x 10 pictures, featuring the group of us little girls, in our costumes, in my baby book.   (I just went looking to see the pictures and verify there weren’t more photos.   When my parents moved into their motorhome I was sure my mom gave me my childhood photo albums, but if she did I don’t know what I did with them.   So, note to self, check with mom about photo albums.) Anyway, what I remember is being able to wear make-up, and getting to dress up in costumes.   We must have had two numbers that we performed because we were all wearing two different costumes in the pictures.   In one of the pictures we are all wearing pretty, royal blue, sequined ballet costumes. ...