It was nice, especially because Saturday morning is so sparsely attended that Fr. King asked if there were additional special intentions. Without thinking, I asked for prayers for the painless peaceful deaths of those awaiting death. Right now I am several degrees removed from three hospice situations, one of which is someone I know. I hate the idea of the pain these men are suffering, and of the suffering their loved ones feel because of it.
And saying the rosary out loud -- ! I don't think I've said the rosary with people since grade school. It's a somewhat more elaborate rosary than the script I use, with prayers for vocations, to St. Michael, St. Gertrude and the long litany it would be dumb to say alone. The voices together felt strong. On the other hand, my script breaks each mystery down and I read and meditate on it in a way that is intellectually more satisfying than the group's nominal attention to the mysteries. But there is something comforting and distinctly NON-intellectual about saying it as a group that is also good.
I had a credit for books from Amazon and ordered a couple of research items. They arrived in good time but, not needing the books immediately, I didn't open them. I was astonished when I did because one was a gift from someone I really don't know well, Poopy Barbie.
I've been fighting the blues -- am fighting them -- taking one step back for every two steps forward (after church I collapsed into House, natürlich, and rose from my non-life only to walk Daisy, which ended up being a social event because everyone is out on the lovely day. Poopy Barbie dropped into my life like a feather from an angel wing -- or, more aptly, a feather from Divine's boa.
So thank you Divine/Angel. Barbie is not going to be unboxed but she stands guard at the foot of my bed. And I feel like somehow I belong to something, although I'm not sure what.