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Every time, I tell you. I cry every time "My Song is Love Unknown" comes up in church. I don't know if it's the words, the tune or a combination of the two, but I can't make it through with dry eyes. That and Silent Night, a capella and kneeling in a dimly lit church on Christmas Eve. Knocks me out. My tears are pretty close to the surface lately. Not that things are bad in my life, but I'm just so tired. It's like that Dick Van Dyke show episode when Rob is working at the radio station and does a non-stop on-air stint to break the record. He's reading the news and starts bawling about a kitten stuck in a tree. And yet the alarm goes off and I drag my leaden body out of bed. Mostly I'm just numb. I wish I wasn't on chapel team for the last week of classes. Just when I could use some sleeping in, letting me work late (which is when I do my best writing), I have to be in chapel at 7:30am to prepare for the liturgy. Ugh. As I careen toward graduation I wonder...will I actually have it all done in time? Will I graduate? Then I recall on what day convocation lands. May 8, the feast day of Dame Julian of Norwich. "...all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." And all is and shall be well. For example, Amy and I have an apartment lined up. It's a two bedroom, right in downtown Oakville, about a ten minute walk from the church. The building is clean and we'll have a balcony from which we'll be able to see the lake. There are loads of restaurants within an easy walk, and it's not that far from the GO station, so downtown Toronto will be easily accessible. It sure is nice knowing where we'll be. It's not so much fun packing the 50 plus boxes of books we have...anyone want to help us move? Anyone? Strong backs needed...we'll buy the beer and pizza. Hello? Rats. |
