I write anywhere. Back in the days of paper, I used to write in a journal. Then it morphed into a folder marked “writing” on my computer. At some point, writing became a less organized endeavor: a pad of paper I keep in my purse, a notepad on my cell phone, directly online on my blog. Sometimes a thought occurs, Stacy, you must organize this foolishness. How will you find what you’re looking for in all of this mess? This fancy is quickly dismissed because I remember that I rarely return to the words once written (unless it’s research for a book I’m writing). You see, Gentle Reader, those lucky words escaped my head and made their way to a page – literal or digital, so voilà! Catharsis! (Albeit temporary because words always simmer again and boil over to an awaiting page.)
That’s a long-winded introduction to these next words that have been bubbling for at least a few months. Yes, that’s a while, but sometimes I push them away, saying, I’m too tired for you; go away! They capitulate for a while, those accommodating words, until they don’t. So, here they are – the words that explain “The Tale of Two Kathys.”
Kathy Yooper has been my cyber friend for years. As a follower of her blog, I have been guided by her perception of life and love and pain and everything else. How beautifully she arranges those thoughts onto a page! She is no less than inspiring – she motivates me to ponder deeply within myself in a world that rewards superficiality. I invite you to trek on over to her blog (Lake Superior Spirit) to experience this wonder for yourself. Let me pose this question, one that Kathy sparked: What are ten good things about today? It is difficult to sift through suffering sometimes, isn’t it? Try turning your thoughts into a prayer of thanksgiving. Kathy was the impetus a few days ago to open my tightly shut eyes to the blessings all around me.
- the love of my family
- the love of my friends
- the view of the sunrise every morning from my porch
- a spunky, tenacious granddaughter with whom I share my days
- a church of beautiful souls whose presence comforts me
- a dog who follows me everywhere
- a homemade latte
- a Cajun woman who speaks French to me, which is music to my ears
- electricity, which isn’t always a guarantee
- music, in the form of husband’s guitar, birdsong, or humming when I don’t know the lyrics
Kathy’s words open my heart.
This is the tale of two Kathys. The other Kathy of whom I write is a part of #5 above. Hers is a short story, though, because it is almost inexplicable. Words are insufficient, but they are the only tool in my toolbox, so I endeavor to do justice to this Kathy’s story. I was weary, frightened, and longing. Almost too tired to hope. It’s a slippery slope to have no hope. So after Mass, my family and I were exiting the nave when so many stopped to chat that particular day in winter. One of those someones was Kathy. Whoosh! I felt the hand of the Holy Spirit. Fear not. Exhale. Jillian asked me later, “Mama, did you feel her spirit?” My eyes widened. “Oh, you felt it, too?” Yes, there are angels among us. They are sent to allay our fears and give us hope. I have encountered a few in my life. My angels, not all of whom are Kathys, know who they are. But on that particular day, my angel was Kathy.
So what should I do with these words written on a page? Organize and codify? Or will they yellow with time and get tossed some day in the future? Well, Gentle Reader, I am typing them up into the realm of zeros and ones so that cyberspace can spew them all over the universe.
What do these words mean? A soul can be healed, but not on its own.