The Late Arrival

My daughter's friend's mom stood up and publicly acknowledged her daughter for who she was, the blessing she was to her parents and community, and then prayed for her daughter to keep the faith.  This was my very first  Quinceañera  mass and it was all in Spanish; and, even though my brain doesn't speak Spanish, my heart totally does. So the Baptist call and response tradition in me was all... via GIPHY BECAUSE I COULD FEEL EVERY WORD THIS KID'S MOM WAS SAYING even though she was speaking Spanish. The mom was barely five feet tall and wore a sparkly beige dress with blue accents that mimicked her daughter's dress. Tasteful, but not full-on mother of the bride or anything. I figured she and I were around the same age. We're in that phase when you shave your legs less and pluck your chin more. Both of us understand that we've got more years behind us than ahead. Both of us understand this isn't a drill -- it's real life.

Please forgive me if the following seems self-indulgent and feel free to check out of this post if you do. I admit it. I'm probably the only one who's been discouraged, disheartened and frankly -- frightened -- about the tone and timbre of the good ol' U S of A in the past week and I don't know how to find...well, Balance. It's not just #BarbecueBecky or #PermitPatty or the kid entrepreneur on the wrong end of mowing grass a hair over a property line or denying asylum to asylum-seekers  or children being held in modern day interment camp s or its accompanying argument that the previous administration started it ...I'm just tired. Tired and torn, because down here on the third rock from the sun while all that is ripping me to shreds, I know people are still trying to balance out everything from whether they oughta buy the chicken or pay their electric bill, to grieving over children gone too soon. Man, I'm struggling to balance all of that with the