Lost Causes or the Patron Saint

In the past seven days, the issue of prayer came up in two of my books, neither were on theology. Humor and hopelessly romantic despondency themed, on women making a change in life. One a book of fiction the other a book on personal self discovery. The more I compare the contents more common themes come to mind. Coincidence? Oprah, God bless her soul, once said there is no such things and I agree. So as I read or should I say devoured the books while on vacation, I marveled on the idea of prayer, so much so, I added a prayer to a God, who ever was listening at the time and one to St Jude, the patron Saint of lost causes, not that a lost cause existed but a prayer never the less for any assistance to help with my issue.

As the pages turned and St Jude became a desperate metaphor in the one book, it made me think of how my little issue could be a lost cause and ammended my prayer accordingly. I love the power of prayer and from time to time I like to use it when necessary. Usually I like solving things completely on my own, independently. But in this occasion, I left on vacation with an aching desire for something to turn out it my favor. So, there not so crazy an idea but much like the heroine in the book, desperate. And so, while in the mountains, I took the time to reflect and pray a little bit more adding details to each one. At one point, I outlined exactly word for word how my prayer should be answered. Talk about being presumptuous, a bad habit of mine.

Seven days later, after piling into my home with luggage, toys, shoes and several insect bites, I took a chance of glancing at the phone. Yes, there was a message. I reviewed the callers and seen part of my prayer was answered but avoided listening to the actual message. Twenty-four hours later, my son pushed play while I showered and happily expressed I had a meeting the next day, to my delight. Half my prayer was answered. So, if my prayer to God and to Ste Jude worked and now I waited for the final results, I impatiently asked in one last addendum for an answer to come by the next day, no sense in letting the suspense eat at me.

Picture my cockiness and over confident self rubbishing through life with my nose in the air. Mind you I did thank the Gods for everything and began thinking of the thank you I would write. In fact it happened today and lst night I went to bed with sugar plum fairies in my dreams. Boy did I get my answer faster than I expected and astonished more so with the results.

So here goes, I thank you St Jude for answering my prayers in a timely and efficient manner and quite surprisingly too and for answering all my future prayers. I may not completely understand how I got what was giveth but I know there is a reason. And in time I will understand. Have a great day in Saintville and keep up the good work.

Birthdays

Is it just me or do most women over 40 feel the same way about birthdays as they do about, let's say, going to the dentist? With another one under the belt this past week, there was little build up to it. I marvelled birthdays past but now with each passing year it reminds me of this analogy a friend said years ago: "Double your age, when we turn 20 we can easily see ourselves at 40, at 30 we can easily see ourselves at 60, 40 is somewhat different, seeing ourselves at 80 is tricky." That puts things into perspective.

This year, I bought my own cake, hot husband with instructions in hand did not buy me anything after the costly microwave repair I took as a birthday present. Imagine, I choose an appliance as a birthday present, this says much. In keeping with the festive mood, the cake made it ways onto the forks of my always hungry boys and the only lingering thought of my birthday was the cards on my table from the boys.

Hot husband gave me a silly card of love, when opened a couple moved and the husband dipped his wife and kissed her. I opened it once and the couple became unglued, falling to the floor. I wondered, is this a sign.

Birthdays were a big deal to me. My mom made me one birthday party when I turned seven. I got a new blue bike and as I went to make my wish, my younger sister blew out my candle. Hence my fascination with birthdays, my sister can attest to it. By the end of the summer my bike made it into the hands of my brother and his friends for parts. Growing up I imagined finding a spouse who would throw me surprise parties to show his undying love for me. For years I would secretly wishing coming home to a surprise birthday party, with my house filled with friends. It didn't happen but a girl can dream. Hot husband is not a party planner but he can throw a very intimate dinner for two together on occasion. I just made an excuse for my husband, ugh.

Birthdays also signified a new beginning, a year ahead filled with hope. That this would be the year things come together, finally. Full of hope and a little fear that things would remain the same. I am not quite sure of what I wanted to change or gain but it was there. I put a lot of stock in birthdays probably as much as people put into New Years resolutions. In my early twenties, I purchased all the magazines for the birthday horoscopes. At times, grudgingly rereading them months later to discover my life swayed in different directions. Hence, birthdays.

Since turning forty, by the way, I threw my own party and celebrated the big 4-0 in style. Birthdays took on a whole new life or lack their of. Sneakingly suspicious, I did an informal poll amongst 40-45ish women and discover my neurosis on birthdays was actually quite prevalent among the group. I summed it up to the next big one is 50, which is the new 30 and I have ever intention of soaking those years up too. So for all those celebrating, I mean just having another birthday, happy one. :)

Rain, rain go away

Come back another day, no come back after Labor Day. In the the northeast, it has rained everyday for the past to weeks. Hello, it's not Vancouver, Mother Nature!!!

Today, the first day of vacation at the cottage will most likely end at home. The boys and I will trek to the cottage and see if it's safe. The word on the cabin circuit is that some small bridges washed from this rain that has plagued us . I am not worried it affecting my cottage but we'll see.
Reminiscent of last year, the rain hampers summer plans and forces us to stay in our homes. Unlike Vancouver where the residents acclimatize to wet weather and go on with their lives, Northeasterners whine and complain and stay in doors. We deserve better after making it through the long winters.

As my dad would say the only thing this much rain is good for are the farmers and their fields. Enjoy.