(I did notice one really interesting thing, though.
Church seemed so BUSY. The service itself was full of energy (Pentecost, after all) but afterward, in the hallways and at the coffee hour -- people are just so BUSY. So many rapid-fire, half-baked conversations; so many interruptions. I don't know whether it's my two years of developing something of a contemplative stance in spiritual direction training, or my two years of (on occasion, anyway) thoughtful assessment in an academic environment, or my nine months of cautious adaptation to pain ~ but church felt hurried and jagged and wound up. I suppose that's another reason I've stayed away ~ an intuitive sense that the pace is just wrong for me right now.
An acquaintance/friend gave me an exquisite prayer shawl that she had made for me and been carting around for months, hoping I would show up one day. It is a lovely, lovely gift ~ but she thrust the box into my arms and disappeared.)
And then late this afternoon, Gregarious Son and I made the two-hour round trip to City South of Here, to figure out where he is supposed to go for the LSAT in another week. One of the things I most appreciate about my two surviving children is their ability to talk openly about our lives as we find them now. At one point I commented on how glad I am that he is signed up for the LSAT ~ whether or not he ever goes to law school, it's a start.
And he said, "We're going to pull through this, Mom."