And it is Tuesday

 And this is Thimba. Apparently Thimba and I share our tea in the mornings.  That's alright.  For months, Thimba never came out from the corner of my bedroom.  I'm so happy that she is back and is an active cat again. Even if she does terrorize me in the middle of the night. Even if she does turn the computer printer on and makes blank sheets of paper feed through.  

I bought myself a new stove.  One that I chose that has features that I want.  I love to bake - I really do.  My only wish is that someone (other than me) would eat it.  Many times I will take half of whatever I made and take it over to my future daughter-in-law's grandparents - it really makes me happy to do it.  Back when we had church dinners, I looked forward to making something yummy and sharing it with the church members.

But I haven't been to church. It's been open since the beginning of September and haven't been there to attend or to play the piano. I don't know when/if I will ever go back.  I'm angry but I really haven't decide with whom I am angry. I'm kind of mad at God. So many horrible things this year and then I found out this morning that my cousin's 4 year old granddaughter has leukemia. I can't even say how I feel. I'm not close to my cousin and I'm not close at all to my cousin's son which doesn't make any difference whatsoever. There is a hurt baby and her mom, dad, sister, and brother.  Knowing this breaks my heart. The only thing I can do is make her a quilt and that is so incredibly lame but I know that for so many people, including myself, there is comfort in knowing that other people care and that other people wish they could share the burden.

So am I mad at God? I don't really think so but when my mom died unexpectedly, not a phone call, not a note, nothing from my pastor or other church members. On the other hand, my co-workers were Johnnys-on-the-spot and sent messages - just something to let me know they cared. 

I don't know. My feelings are all over the place. Mothers and fathers have been dying forever and what I am experiencing is not unique.  I need to accept that I feel sad, lost, like I don't matter. Maybe when I drag myself out of this suck-hole of grief, I will commit to try and never let anyone else feel that way.  

This is what my mom would call a 'pity-party'. She would be right.  But it is my blog and I can whine.