Blog Et Cetera


Some months are expected to go off without a hitch. That’s what I expect from August…that nonchalant, confident month that asserts “your summer wasn’t much of  anything until you met me.”

It was surprisingly rainy this year and it fit my mood quite well.

Some very dear people in my life relocated or became seriously ill. Emotional energy drains me in a way that is incomparable.

So, I appreciate that August wasn’t quite so rough and tumble. That it gave me moments to contemplate…where the rain could camouflage my tears.

I’ve lost a lot this month, but, somehow, I retain my hope.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear…” – C.S. Lewis



The first two weeks of July were spent being sick. It was awful. The doctor said to drink fluids, get rest and take cough syrup because it was a virus- medicine wasn’t useful in this situation.

This will sound melodramatic, but it was one of those illnesses where you consider your life and decide, on the whole, that you’ve accomplished enough and was blessed with times of joy.

Then, because you can’t breathe (and everything you learned in biology class leads you to believe that filling your lungs with oxygen is important)- you prepare for death.

Sleep deprivation toys with your emotions, whispering bits of nonsense that suddenly seem illuminating:

“Think of all the times you’ve been on antibiotics. If you had lived hundreds of years ago, you would have died 7 or 8 times already. You’ve had a good run.”

“Maybe the doctor was wrong. You need a lot of medicine. Perhaps medicine that hasn’t even been invented yet.”

“They weren’t spraying for mosquitoes the other day, they were infecting the neighborhood with illness.”

After several days of this on-going foolishness, I awoke, capable of breathing just a little through my nose…my ribs not as sore, from all the coughing. This is progress, I thought. I’m getting better.

Even now, a month later there is an infrequent, nagging cough that hasn’t completely left me. A reminder that, by all accounts, this may be my ninth life, so I’d better make it good.

In the end, embracing foolishness is a small price to pay for someday having an opportunity at wisdom.