My mind is spinning in Random tonight. I have food to make, laundry to fold, toyhauler to pack, grocery store to visit, but I don’t think I can focus until I vent, sort, rant, whatever this is…
“There are monkeys in my heart, rattling their cages.” Lyrics on Grey’s tonight. And that’s how I feel. Sounds funny, but it isn’t particularly…more jumbled, really. So, here’s what on my mind, and I’ll number for the pretense of Order:
1. I stumbled upon a great concept reading Annalisa’s blog…who stumbled upon Michelle’s…who stumbled upon Ali Edwards’. Not bad at only four degrees of separation, I suppose. Anyhow, I picked myself up & wandered to explore this Ali Edwards. There’s got to be something contagious about a post that gets 414 comments. I jumped in at 415...and will pass along the bug. Quoting her:
“A single word can be a powerful thing. It can be the ripple in the pond that changes everything. It can be sharp and biting or rich and soft and slow.
“Last year I began a tradition of chosing one word for myself each January - a word that I can focus on, mediate on, and reflect upon as I go about my daily life. Last year my word was something I wanted to bring into my life in a more tangible way. My word was Play…
“Can you identify a single word that sums up what you want for yourself in 2007?”
I perused her fan responses & was Awed by the “one word” choices. Her word this year is Peace. My word chose me instantly, but I’ll post about it next week…more monkeys rattling still.
2. My blogless sister Mandi wrote a list of 100 & Megs posted it on her site. I know I’m her sister, but it was seriously one of the best lists I’ve read (and oh I made the rounds). A teaser from her list:
"I received my mission call on my 21st birthday, at 3 AM in a Catholic confession booth turned phone booth in a youth hostile in Dublin, Ireland after a night of dancing at Bono’s (from U2) dance club, The Kitchen, located behind and under his hotel, The Clarence."
Who could possibly have that in common?
3. I finally delivered my Sunbeam book gifts. Driving around to 27 different houses takes longer than I imagined. Aidan desperately wanted to help, but got shy every time he reached the door solo. He’d ring and run. A prankster in the making. Poor Davyn was placated for the two hour trip with hundreds of SpongeBob crackers.
I came home to a thank you call from one of the mothers. Emily would not put down her book, ate with it even. She (the mother) was teary. That made me teary. I really wanted to do something they (the little people) would like.
4. I feel lame blogging about Grey’s Anatomy, but the episode really shook me tonight. First off, the music was fantastic. Second, the music was fantastic. But…why did they stop doing the start & finish narration (or was I too wrapped up to notice it?!)?
George said, “I don’t know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn’t.” It undid me. I honestly don’t think about my dad too often – a dark, locked closet in that monkey-ridden cage, I suppose. Odd moments rattle that closet. Grey's Anatomy??!
5. Came in to visit my blessedly restored computer (thank you, thank you Jim) & read the RS lesson for this week (I never do that, but am grateful for this exception). Crying again. I love President Kimball, but did not know this about him.
“Early in his childhood, Spencer W. Kimball suffered the pain that comes with the death of loved ones. When he was eight years old, his sister Mary died shortly after her birth. A month later, Spencer’s parents sensed that five-year-old Fannie, who had been suffering for several weeks, would soon pass away. Spencer later told of the day Fannie died: “On my ninth birthday Fannie died in Mother’s arms. All of us children were awakened in the early night to be present. I seem to remember the scene in our living room … , my beloved mother weeping with her little dying five-year-old child in her arms and all of us crowding around.”1
Even more difficult for young Spencer was the news he received two years later, when he and his brothers and sisters were called home from school one morning. They ran home and were met by their bishop, who gathered them around him and told them that their mother had died the day before. President Kimball later recalled: “It came as a thunderbolt. I ran from the house out in the backyard to be alone in my deluge of tears. Out of sight and sound, away from everybody, I sobbed and sobbed. Each time I said the word ‘Ma’ fresh floods of tears gushed forth until I was drained dry. Ma—dead! But she couldn’t be! Life couldn’t go on for us. … My eleven-year-old heart seemed to burst.”
The lesson is titled "Tragedy or Destiny". Amazing thoughts.
Enough of my jumbled has escaped to allow tackling of the tasks . . . better yet, the Pillow. If the damn Monkeys will behave.
**can you tell I learned to insert links in my blogging text today?!**
Monday, January 22, 2007 at 12:23PM 
